Howl of Despair
by Scion of Kushiel
Summary: Remus Lupin is given the care of a bitten child and must teach the boy how to deal with the beast within, and perhaps finally come to terms with his own. COMPLETE! Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1: An Unexpected Plea

**Disclaimer: My name is not J.K. Rowling, and these are not mine. I just like to borrow them and play with them every once and a while.**

_A/N: This is my first fanfic, so be gentle, please, but if you review, please also be honest. And I apologize profusely for any errors in the upload; I still think computers are just fancy cages for mirrors and gremlins, and I don't understand ANY of it. _

Chapter One: An Unexpected Plea

When Remus heard the knock on his door, he didn't even glance up from grading his sixth year DADA exams. "Enter," he called, shaking his head at an answer so wrong as to be absurd. He had vaguely thought it to be one of the other professors, or perhaps Albus, maybe even Ginny, who had promised to come say goodbye before she left. His visitor said nothing, though his keen ears could hear quiet steps to the front of his desk, and he finally set down the parchment and looked up. He did not expect to see a student, namely a Slytherin, standing in front of him, nor did he expect that said Slytherin would be without the haughty superiority that they all seemed to have around him.

Frowning slightly, he quickly put a name to the face. "Can I help you, Miss Sleipak?" he asked.

"Sir, do you know the age limit for adoption?"

Not a question he was expecting. Taking his time, he neatened the stack of exams and set it on the edge of his desk. "Please, take a seat," he invited, pulling a chair up for her with his wand. "If I may ask, Miss Sleipak, why are you bringing this to me? As Head of House, Professor Snape would probably have been the better choice."

"Somehow I don't see Professor Snape knowing much about adoption laws," she replied dryly, and he had to concede she had a point.

"Why me, then? I don't know any more about it than he does."

Her shoulders fell ever so slightly, an insignificant reaction from anyone else but a scream from a Slytherin, and she looked down at her hands in her lap. "I overheard Weasley talking to some of her friends; she said you knew something about everything. I thought it was worth a try."

Remus leaned back in his chair, regarding her thoughtfully. "Why do you need to know?" he asked finally.

"I don't think that's really any of your business, Professor, I'm sorry to have wasted your time." She got up and started walking quickly to the door.

"Miss Sleipak."

His voice stopped her, and she reluctantly turned around to meet his eyes.

"If you explain to me why you need to know, then I can help you find out any other problems that might arise, as well. I'm not going ignore a student's request, even if she is no longer officially a student."

The girl hesitantly smiled and came back to the seat before the desk. "Thank you," she whispered.

That alone told him how important this was to the girl; a Slytherin saying 'thank you' to someone who wasn't another Slytherin? He would have said a moment ago that it was impossible. His mind skipped quickly over what he knew of this student. Heidi Sleipak, age seventeen, usually about average in his classes, came from a wealthy, pureblood family. Who could she possibly be wanting to adopt? "Miss Sleipak, I think it best you explain the request."

"Yes, sir," she sighed. She nervously crossed and recrossed her ankles, a fidget he never thought to see in the girl he'd taught for four nonconsecutive years. After several moments, she sighed again and looked back up at him. "I need to adopt my brother; our parents kicked him out."

He frowned, leaning forward. "How old is he?"

"Eight."

"And your parents kicked him out."

"Yes, Professor," she replied, her voice getting a touch impatient.

"Why?"

"It doesn't really matter why, just that they did," she answered tightly.

Relaxing back into his chair again, Remus simply looked at her until her gaze fell back to her lap. "Miss Sleipak, if you want my help, you will have to trust me," he pointed out.

"It doesn't matter why," she insisted, her glacier blue eyes flashing. "Simply that they did, and they're not going to let him come back."

"The reason why could affect whether or not they'll let you adopt," he explained. "Besides, surely there are older relatives willing and capable of taking him in?"

She shook her head. "None willing. We're the main branch of the family; they're not going to disobey my parents."

"But you will."

"He's my brother," she snapped. "He's my family as much as my parents are, and I've been raised not to forget that."

He let that pass for the moment, moving on instead to the next salient point. "Do you have your own money, Miss Sleipak, or are you dependant upon your parents?"

"I don't see how that-"

"If you adopt your brother against the specific wishes of your parents, what kind of financial support are you going to have? Were you planning on getting a job straight out of school?" he went on. "Were you planning on doing an apprenticeship, or going to uni? How are you going to be able to support both yourself and your younger brother on no money?"

Her face fell, and it was obvious that this was something she hadn't considered. He idly wondered if there were any Gryffindors in her family, as it was a mistake his former house tended to make. The supposition was given further credence with her next statement. "I'll figure out a way," she said quietly. "I can't leave him out on his own, he's only eight. He'll die."

"What about an orphanage?" he suggested. "Or perhaps you could look outside your family for someone to adopt him."

But she shook her head. "I already thought of that; no one will take him."

Remus often had reason to thank the fates that he'd been blessed with a fairly large supply of patience, and he found himself grateful for it again. The girl was obviously flustered, in such a way that her Slytherin logic was giving way to Gryffindor circulars, and he wasn't overly fond of repeating things. Then again, what professor is? "And why is that, Miss Sleipak?" he almost growled.

"They just won't," she returned stubbornly. "I'm the only one he's got."

"And are you prepared for your parents to disown you, as well?" he asked wearily.

Her mouth fell into a thin line, but she nodded tensely. "I'll do what I have to do."

He turned these things over in his head, consciously allowing the silence to grow uncomfortable, waiting to see if she'd fidget again. Yes, there it was, the quick cross and recross of the ankles, the sure sign that this was important to her. He couldn't help but worry about what she wasn't telling him; anything that kept people that didn't know the boy from adopting him had to be pretty terrible, and he wasn't sure if this seventeen year old girl, less than a day graduated from Hogwarts, would be up to it. There were a number of ways to go about getting the information, but she was in Slytherin after all, so he opted for simply laying his cards out on the table.

"Miss Sleipak, you have to trust me," he told her calmly and firmly. "Children are very precious in our world, and the Ministry is not going to allow their custody to be shifted lightly, especially not to a newly out of school seventeen year old who's entirely likely not to have a way to support said child. That you want so desperately to help your brother no matter what speaks very well of you, but even if you were able to gain custody of him, how would you take care of him? At the expense of yourself? You'd be scraping for Knuts, and I don't think it's fair for you to condemn either of you to that kind of life, unable to do anything you want to for the sake of what you have to. I will help you in whatever way I can, of course, but I cannot do so in ignorance; that will not accomplish anything."

He gave her time to sift through what he had said, applying her intellect to it, then her instinct. Her gaze remained fixed on her hands, carefully arranging her fingers into a neat interlock as the thoughts raced through her mind. For what was not the first time in his life, he almost wished he'd been sorted into Slytherin, purely for the analysis they all seemed gifted with. Well, almost all, he amended, hiding a smile; there were always your Crabbes and Goyles. He snapped his attention back to her when she looked up, her lower lip caught anxiously between her teeth.

"You'll help me in any way you can, sir?" she asked, and he had the feeling he was about to let himself into a trap.

"Any way I can," he repeated.

"Then would you be able to take him, Professor?"

He blinked rapidly. This girl was constantly surprising him, and he was getting distinctly ruffled by that fact. "I'm not sure I heard you entirely correctly, Miss Sleipak. You want what?"

"Would you be able to take him? Everyone says you take really good care of Potter," she continued on in a rush. "He's really very sweet, very quiet-"

"If he's sweet and quiet, Miss Sleipak, why did your parents-"

They both jumped at an energetic pounding on the door. Remus glanced briefly at his former student, then back at the door. "Enter," he called.

A slim figure bounded in, followed by a long mane of flowing red hair, and threw itself at him, hugging him tightly. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get up here, Remus, but you know my mum, she just wouldn't stop and let me go," it said all in a rush.

Laughing, Remus returned the embrace. "It's quite all right, Ginny," he assured her, his warm blue eyes twinkling merrily. "Your mum is understandably proud of you, and besides, it's not every day that her youngest child and only daughter graduates."

"Well, she actually made me promise to come straight back, but the Headmaster invited us to stay at the castle overnight, so I wanted to tell you that I'll see you at dinner and we can talk more then, okay?" She fondly kissed his cheek, nodded politely to Heidi Sleipak, and raced back out the door again.

Remus looked after her affectionately. He loved Ginny like a niece. Albus had once asked him why a niece, and not a daughter, and he had glibly replied that he would feel guilty teaching a daughter all the pranks and hexes he had secretly passed on to the girl over the years. With an effort, he pulled his mind back to the task at hand.

Heidi sat in the chair, slightly nonplussed at the scene she'd just witnessed. "That was…enthusiastic," she commented finally.

"I'm very close with the Weasleys," he explained. "I've taught most of them at one point or another, and Molly mothers me the same ways he mothers everyone else who comes within ten feet of her kitchen." He smiled, but his gaze was sharp as he looked back at her. "And if your brother is sweet and quiet, why would your parents throw him out of the house?"

She flushed scarlet, a painful color against her pale skin, and mumbled a reply.

"Miss Sleipak-"

"He got bitten."


	2. Chapter 2: You What?

**Disclaimer: Still not mine. sigh**

Chapter Two: You What?

Again, not what he had been expecting. Remus took a deep breath and peered at the blushing, flustered former student. "Bitten by what, precisely?" he asked calmly, though a deep, sinking feeling in his gut told him that he already knew the answer.

"A werewolf, sir," the girl answered, tactfully refraining from any number of epithets on the tip of her tongue.

"When?"

"Five days ago."

Counting back in his head to his last transformation, Remus decided the boy must have been bitten on the last night of the full moon. He sighed deeply. Eight years old, and already damned. His heart had already gone out to the boy, with just her three words, but he knew that he shouldn't do anything rash. That had always been his place within the Marauders, the voice of reason and caution; it wouldn't do to forget those qualities now. "Where is he now?"

"I hid him in the fringes of the forest," she told him, voice barely audible.

"The Forbidden Forest!" he yelped.

"I didn't know where else to hide him!" she shot back. "He's just in the fringes, and I showed him where Hagrid's hut is, so he can run there if he gets into any trouble, but I couldn't very well hide him in the dormitory." Her anger faded as suddenly as it had come, and she fixed him with desperate eyes. "Professor, please. I don't know why I didn't think about it before, but you're the perfect choice. Who else can teach him how to live with it? Because you do. Live with it, I mean. You've got a steady job, you've got friends, you've got respect…who else would be able to teach him that this isn't the end of his life? He's got too much potential to be kept from everyone for the rest of his days, and-" Suddenly aware of the fact that she was babbling like a Hufflepuff, she cut herself off abruptly, but that didn't keep her from giving him a pleading gaze.

"Take me to him," he sighed.

"Does that mean you'll-"

He held up a hand before she could finish her question. "I don't know. I do know, however, that that is not the safest place for a child, and he will be far better off here in the castle, preferably in the infirmary so we can make sure the bite isn't infected. I promise you that I will speak with the Headmaster; it may be that he'll have a solution that neither of us would have thought of. You should know, however, that, as a werewolf, I cannot adopt. We will have to go about it in some other fashion."

Her face fell, but there was still hope there, and he once again found himself reassessing Slytherin House. "Can we go soon?" she asked quietly. "So that he doesn't have to spend another night out there?"

"We'll go now." He set his quill on top of the unfinished grading and stood up, automatically sliding his wand into the hidden pocket of his sleeve. "Will he be scared if you have someone else with you?"

"Possibly," she allowed. "I obviously haven't taken anyone else to see him."

"When was the last time he ate?"

"I snuck him some food after breakfast this morning, but then with the Leaving Ceremony…" she shrugged helplessly. "I know he'll be hungry, but dinner's not for another four hours."

Remus smiled slightly; he thought the secret of the kitchens was the most well known secret in the school. "We'll take care of him. Follow me."

Twenty minutes later, armed with a large bag of sandwiches and flasks of pumpkin juice, the unlikely pair walked out of the main doors and headed straight towards the Forbidden Forest, Heidi leading the way. There were still a lot of students about; parents had been given the option of taking their children with them after the Leaving Ceremony, but most would go home as usual on the Hogwarts Express in a few days' time.

A few hundred yards into the fringe of trees, the gamekeeper's hut visible in the near distance, Heidi stopped. "Callum," she called lowly. "Callum, it's just Heidi, come on out."

A slight rustle of leaves caught Remus' attention and he turned, his sharp eyes catching the small boy standing in the shadows. "It's all right, Callum," he said quietly. "I'm here to help. Will you come out, please?"

The boy made no move to come closer, and Heidi bit her lip anxiously. "Callum, please, he can help you."

"You said _you'd_ help me," the boy replied bitterly.

"He can help you more than I can," she explained. "Callum, please trust me. When have I ever done wrong by you?"

Brother and sister stared at each other across the tiny clearing, and he nodded reluctantly, stepping out into the dappled light.

Remus caught his breath at the blood-soaked bandage around the boy's right forearm, but even more so at the expression in his eyes, the overwhelming sense of being lost. Being careful not to move too quickly, Remus sat down on the soft loam and opened the bag. "Your name is Callum, then?" he asked.

"Obviously."

"Callum."

He smiled and shook his head at Heidi; he could understand the boy being rude. His parents had told him often enough that he'd been unbearable when he'd first been bitten. He laid out the thin blanket the house-elves had added into the sack and set out sandwiches on top of it. The golden flasks were still cold to the touch, condensation forming as they met the June heat. "Are you hungry, Callum?"

"Yes," the boy answered, staring longingly at the food.

"Then come and eat."

Startled, the boy moved slowly forward, seating himself at the very edge of the blanket before grabbing at a sandwich. While he ate, Remus sipped at some pumpkin juice and took the opportunity to observe the boy in more detail.

He was a little small for his age, but it was a leanness that held true in his sister, as well, so he didn't assume any kind of ill treatment. His skin held a tan that many children had in summer, from long hours spent playing outdoors, but there was a pallor beneath it, one that he recognized from the mirror. The body had a way of protesting its possesion and destruction, and the boy hadn't even undergone his first transformation yet. He wasn't entirely surprised to find himself the subject of equal scrutiny, and his good nature allowed the boy to look his fill without remarking upon it. Part of him wondered what the boy saw, what anyone ever saw; he was all to aware of what he saw in himself, yet the fact that he did have friends told him there was more than what he could see.

"How are you going to help me?" Callum demanded when the worst of his hunger had been satisfied.

"I don't know yet," he answered honestly. "That will be up to the Headmaster."

"So I'm doomed," he predicted glumly, and his sister pulled him into a tight hug, mindful of his arm.

"Don't say that, Callum," she whispered. "Dumbledore's a good man, if a bit of a fool. He lets Professor Lupin here teach."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"The Professor's a werewolf, Callum," she told him gently. "He knows what you're going through. That's why he can help."

The light in the child's eyes changed instantly with her statement, and he now looked upon Remus with a mixture of horror and hope. "Really?"

Remus nodded. "I was bitten when I was six."

"And you teach here?"

"Yes, I do."

"But that's illegal," he protested, starting to become suspicious again. "The Ministry won't allow-"

"Headmaster Dumbledore is a good man, Callum," he interrupted. "He gives chances to those he feels needs them, whether the Ministry wishes him to or not."

Odd colored eyes stared at him, one blue, one grey, both perplexed. "But isn't it dangerous?"

Remus merely smiled and drank some more pumpkin juice. "Every moon, Professor Snape creates something called the Wolfsbane Potion, a very complex and complicated potion. Not many people are up to making it. When I drink it, it allows me to keep my mind during the transformation, so that I can recognize people, and know not to harm them. We'll give you that potion, as well. It tastes foul," he confided with a glint in his eye, "but it's much better than the alternative."

"There isn't a cure, is there, sir?" Callum whispered, his entire body slumped in defeat.

"Not yet, no," he admitted. "But no one's given up yet, and more advances are being made all the time."

The three sat in silence for a time, Heidi almost too afraid to move, lest she disturb the fragile rapport building between the two males. Remus brushed a lock of hair, almost entirely grey now, back behind his ear. "Callum, will you let us take you up to the castle? Madam Pomfrey will need to take a look at the bite, clean it out and whatnot."

"Yes, sir," the boy answered without much spirit. They packed the remaining sandwiches and the blankets back into the sack and stood, and Heidi immediately took her brother's hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Who's Madam Pomfrey?"

"She's our Healer," Heidi answered before Remus could open his mouth. "She's the one I volunteered with this year, remember? And when I got hexed by those Ravenclaws last year? She's the one that took care of me."

He seemed to perk up at that. "Do you suppose she might be willing to teach me things?" he asked excitedly.

"She may."

Remus took that thought and filed it away in the part of his mind that kept questions to be asked later. As they entered the main hall, he turned to Heidi. "Miss Sleipak, will you please go the Headmaster and ask him to come to the infirmary? His password at the moment is 'Sugar Quills'."

"But, Heidi-" the boy whimpered.

She knelt down in front of her brother and hugged him tightly. "It's all right, Callum. The Professor isn't going to let anything happen to you. You're safe now."

Remus watched her race off through the halls. He didn't have the heart to correct her. A small hand slipping into his caused him to look down, and he found himself meeting the gaze of a blushing Callum. He smiled gently. "The hospital wing is this way."

When Heidi found the Headmaster, she didn't give him any details, simply the message that she'd been told to give. She was a Slytherin, after all, and information was not something to be given out lightly. So it was that a slightly perplexed headmaster made his way to the infirmary, uncertain of what exactly to suspect. He entered the room discretely, his embroidered and spangled purple robes sweeping around him, his twinkling blue eyes casting about for anything out of the ordinary, which was saying something for Hogwarts.

His slender fingers tugged thoughtfully on his long nose, his gaze falling upon Remus Lupin sitting on a bed. "Remus, my boy, are you hurt?"

The thin man turned around and smiled at the headmaster, still standing in the doorway. "No, Albus, I'm here with a new friend."

"A new friend?" Dumbledore glided all the way into the room, and finally saw a young boy sitting next to his Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "Well, hello there, new friend."

His eyebrows raised, the boy glanced at Remus, who shrugged lightly. "Hello," he replied flatly.

"Remus?"

"Sorry about that, Remus." Madam Pomfrey bustled up before the man could answer. "My niece doesn't often get a chance to firecall me, and you said it wasn't urgent."

"Poppy, this is Callum, and he has a bite that needs some tending."

The sweet-faced woman fixed the boy with the stern look she gave every student to pass through her doors. She had learned many years before that many didn't want to admit how they'd gotten hurt, usually because whatever it was they were doing was against the rules. "What kind of bite?" she asked, her mind already running through a list of possibilities.

Callum glanced again at Remus, who nodded encouragingly. He looked back at the mediwitch and swallowed hard. "A werewolf," he whispered.

Paling, Poppy stared at the eight year old. "Oh, you poor thing," she murmured, her face softening instantly. "Well, at least you're here with Remus. I'll just go get some potions, and I'll be right back, and then we'll have you bandaged up in no time."

She hurried off, and Callum leaned his head wearily against Remus' shoulder. "People seem to think awfully highly of you," he noted, and the man laughed.

"Madam Pomfrey has been here since I was a student," he told him. "She helped me more than I can possibly say."

"So is she a werewolf, too?" Callum asked incredulously.

"No, Callum, just a very kind, caring, and compassionate woman." He put his arm around the child and gave him a slight hug. "It may take a while, but everything will work out; you'll see."

"How very optimistic," the boy muttered. After a moment, he spoke again, his eyes following the mediwitch as she rummaged through her stock of potions. "I wanted to be a Healer," he confessed.

"Wanted?" Remus echoed with a slight frown.

"How many people do you think want a werewolf for a Healer?"

"Probably about as many as want a werewolf for a teacher," Dumbledore answered cheerfully. Both wolves turned and looked at him, blinking stupidly. "Besides, my boy," he continued, laying a gentle hand on Callum's shoulder. "You have many years yet before it becomes an issue, and a lot can change in that much time. Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have some arrangements to go make. I'll see you both in the Great Hall for dinner."

Their eyes followed him out, and silence reigned in the hospital wing but for the muted clink of vials as Madam Pomfrey mixed her salves. "That's a weird old man," Callum stated finally, and it was all Remus could do not to howl with laughter.

"Yes, yes he is," he couldn't help agreeing. "Brilliant, of course, but more than a little mad, I think."

The mediwitch came back over to them, carrying a silver tray that she set down on the small table beside the bed. "Here we are. Callum? Can I please see your bite?"

He hesitated, his fingers twitching at the edge of the filthy, blood-soaked bandage, but at a gentle nod from Madam Pomfrey, he ripped it off. Remus' grip on his shoulder tightened, but he said nothing.

Muttering a cleaning spell, Poppy inspected the bite. She reached for one of her salves and carefully spread a cool ointment over the inflamed wounds, her soothing hands pulling his attention away from the pain. "This will draw some of the heat out, dear," she explained. "It was very close to being infected." She had him drink a nasty potion to continue fighting the first stages of festering, then wound a long white bandage around his forearm, tight, but not too tight.

"You can't heal it like a normal cut or gash, can you?" he guessed, absently tugging at the knot of the bandage to test it."

"No, Callum, you can't," she told him. "Something in the saliva keeps it from being able to be taken care of with magic. Now, I want you to keep this clean, and be careful, and come back to see me tomorrow so we can put a fresh bandage on it, all right?"

"Yes, ma'am," he nodded politely.

"Remus, you'll need to talk to Severus about making a double batch of Wolfsbane."

"I thought I might tackle that particular obstacle tonight," he replied. "After all the students are in bed and can't hear his snide comments."

"Or his swearing?" she added with a little laugh. "I have to put silencing charms on his curtains whenever he lands himself in here, for fear of a student overhearing him."

"Everyone learns the words one way or another," he countered. "At least if they're overhearing him, he isn't directing it _at_ them."

The woman chuckled, shaking her head. "Be off with you now, Remus," she ordered. "And try not to be a bad influence on the boy."

"Yes, ma'am," he saluted cheekily. He stood and motioned for Callum to follow.

The pair left the infirmary and walked through the corridors to Remus' rooms, coming to a stop outside a painting of a beautiful rose garden under a full moon. _"Ridikkulus,"_ he announced, and the painting swung outward to reveal his door. He went in, closing the door after the boy, and sat down on a comfortable brown leather couch. He watched his guest glance around the room, nostrils flaring at his new instincts sought out information, then settling himself awkwardly in an overstuffed armchair. "In a little while, Callum, we'll add another room in here, so you'll have your own room. I'll shrink down some of my things until we can get to Diagon Alley and get you your own."

"I haven't any money, sir," he mumbled.

"Don't worry about that," the man assured. He knew that Dumbledore would help defray the costs, and own monetary situation wasn't nearly so bad as it had been when he first came back to Hogwarts. "And you can call me Remus, Callum," he added. "You don't need to latch on the 'sir'."

"Yes, sir."

Remus rolled his eyes but let it go. The two sat in silence for a time, each absorbed in his own thoughts. Perhaps half an hour had passed before they were both startled by a low growl. They looked at each other, and the sound was repeated. Their eyes moved down to Callum's stomach, which emitted a third grumble.

"When's dinner, sir?"

As it turned out, however, Remus didn't need to wait until after curfew to talk to the irritable Potions Master. In order to sit next to Callum, rather than leaving the boy on his own, the DADA teacher ended up sitting next to Snape, who generally had one or two empty seats between him and the next person. He judged his timing carefully as he ate, waiting for his moment. Finally, when his colleague had taken a rather large bit of chicken, he pounced. So to speak. "Severus," he started casually. "Do you think you'd be up to making a double batch of the Wolfsbane Potion this month?"

The pale man beside him swallowed quickly, nearly choking. "Why?" he demanded, sneering. "Is it getting to hard for you to control, Lupin?"

"No, we just have another werewolf living in the castle now," he replied, his voice still deceptively nonchalant. "You see, I've taken him under my wing, more or less, and he'll need the potion as well."

Silence stretched out between them, until finally, Severus spoke, his rich voice dangerously controlled. "You what?"


	3. Chapter 3: Pureblood

**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I can only borrow with great jealousy.**

_A/N: Thank you so much for actually giving me reviews! It's very exciting for me! Also, I know in Chapter One, I said Lupin's eyes were blue, but the more I think about it, the less right that seems, so I'll go back and change it, but just letting you know to prevent confusion. Please note that the rating has been changed to T; this chapter got a little darker than I was expecting, but I found that I liked it._

Chapter Three: Pureblood

"I'm sorry, Severus," Remus apologized innocently, his hazel eyes twinkling wickedly. "Did you need me to use smaller words?"

"One flea-bitten animal in the castle isn't enough, we have to have two now?"

"Inflation," he replied wisely, sternly telling himself that the game would be ruined if he gave in to the urge to snicker.

The Potions Master snarled and returned to his dinner. "Just when are we to be graced with our new arrival?" he demanded.

"Oh, no worries about that, Severus, he's already here." He leaned back in his chair to reveal the boy sitting on his right. Said boy was scowling darkly enough to give Severus some real competition, he reflected merrily.

"I apologize, Professor Snape, is my presence discomfits you," Callum greeted with cold formality. Remus was more than a little surprised to hear the stilted pretensions of society roll so fluidly off his lips.

Snape's eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hair. "Mister Sleipak," he replied.

"You two know each other?"

"All purebloods keep an acquaintance," Callum answered. "It's expected."

"So, what, you have the entire genetic registry lodged in your head?" Remus asked, inwardly amused by the notion.

"It's expected."

Noting the increasing frustration layering the boy's voice, Remus quickly decided to back off. Discretion may be the better part of valor, but it's also the key to survival, and no wolf didn't understand that instinct. "At any rate, Severus, Callum will need to be able to take the potion, as well." Glancing at his still furious colleague, Remus thought that some judicious flattery might not go amiss. "I know it's a very complicated and difficult potion to make, but you've never let me down, and you hate me. I can't imagine that you hate Callum."

"Of course not," he replied automatically. His piercing black eyes remained on the boy. "When and how were you bitten, Mister Sleipak?"

"Five days ago," he explained almost clinically. "I and several of my former friends were camping out in the woods on my property, where werewolves have not been known to be."

"Why didn't your sister inform me?"

"I don't believe she thought you could be of help." Though still tinged with the proper respect, Callum's tone had a bite to it that wouldn't have been out of place in the former Lucius Malfoy; perfectly polite, and deadly insulting.

"I see." His gaze traveled over to his table of Slytherins, about half of whom had chosen to stay for the final night, to fall upon Heidi. She felt his gaze, indeed, how could she not, but although she flushed a painful pink, she did not look up at him, nor did she glance in any way at the child sitting two seats to his left. "And now?"

"She has helped me as much as she can, and risked much in doing even that. Now she will do what she has to do."

Staring down at his plate, Remus was growing increasingly uncomfortable. It just didn't strike him as right for this eight year old to be so calmly, so cynically, discussing such things. That was the province of those for whom time and experience…well, he could concede the experience, but certainly not the time. He stifled a sigh and set down his fork, his appetite vanished.

"And your parents?" Severus asked delicately, as if the boy was a volatile potion. And perhaps he was, Remus reluctantly agreed. One part venom, seven parts pain, and three parts self-loathing; shake well and serve.

"Are not part of this equation," Callum responded coolly.

Snape nodded, his scowl almost thoughtful. "You'll have your potion, Remus, never fear," he said. "You'll still have your mind to keep from giving yourself a few new scars."

Remus sighed, swearing under his breath, as Callum's odd-colored eyes grew wide. "Thanks ever so, Severus," he grated out.

"My pleasure."

"Yes, I'd imagine it was."

"What did he mean?" Callum demanded, still too aware of his dignity to give vent to his shrill panic. "Keep your mind, what did he mean?"

"Are you finished with your dinner, Callum?" he asked pointedly.

The boy shoved away his mostly empty plate. "Yes, now what did he mean?"

"Come on." Pushing back his chair, Remus got to his feet. "We'll talk in private." He walked quickly out of the Great Hall, Callum trotting at his heels, gritting his teeth and ignoring the curious whispers of the students and other staff. Damn Severus, anyway. Personal insults were one thing, but scaring the boy…He shook his head and fought off a feral growl. What was it about the greasy git that always seemed to bring the wolf lurking closer to the surface?

Upon arriving at his, no, their, chambers, Remus sat the boy down on the couch, sitting next to him. "Callum, there's a great deal you'll need to know about what's happened to you, but I obviously wasn't going to be able to tell you all of that before or during dinner. We'll start now. I want you to tell me everything you know about being a werewolf."

Rather than answering immediately, words spilling randomly from his mouth without any sense of cohesion, Callum took his time to carefully consider, pulling his thoughts into neat and precise order. It occurred to the part of Remus' brain that he liked to label 'insane and inappropriate' that he apparently hadn't inherited his sister's latent Gryffindor tendencies. "Actually, not all that much," he admitted slowly. "I know that when a bite is received from the animal form of a werewolf, it infects the victim, and the victim then becomes a werewolf. I know that the transformation occurs at night during the three nights of the full moon."

"That's actually quite good for someone your age, Callum," Remus congratulated him quietly. He leaned back into the leather and stared into the flames that the house elves kept alive. His thoughts were flying about chaotically, so he patiently looked at each one, labeled it, and put it into its proper place and order within his mind. Finished, he looked back at Callum, who had stared at him the entire time. "Humans and animals are meant to exist on parallels, Callum," he began, his light voice unexpectedly grave. "They are meant to co-exist, and more or less ignore each other, because animals are a product of nature, and man has chosen to leave nature behind. Parallels, not perpendiculars. Werewolves are one of the perpendiculars. With the single exception of Animagi, humans are not meant to become animals, and that is precisely why Animagi are so few in number.

"The wolf, your normal wolf, is a savage, intelligent predator who defends his pack and keeps his place. He attacks for food and he attacks for defense. It is not in his nature to kill for enjoyment, or for simple blood lust. He kills because that is what he must do in order to survive, and because that is the way nature ordained for him to be. The wolf we both hold within us knows nothing of those simple boundaries. He kills because he enjoys it, because it makes his soul sing with horrific glee to spread terror and pain. Did you know that a werewolf kills less than a quarter of the humans it attacks? It's intelligent, intelligent by both the wolf and the man, and it can comprehend the sheer magnitude of pain inflicted by its bite, because it experiences that pain for itself. Humans and wolves shy away from pain; werewolves do not. A werewolf will sometimes do something for the sole reason that it will return to human, and the human will feel remorse. And it will not keep itself from spreading that pain physically."

He trailed off, fingers rubbing against three lines of pale scars across his face, and Callum realized with fascinated horror that they were from claws. He sighed and continued. "I'm not going to lie to you, Callum; the transformation is more painful than anything I have ever known. If I had to put it next to the Cruciatus Curse, I'm not entirely sure which one would win. And there is absolutely nothing we can take or do to ease that pain. And it doesn't stop at the transformation. On either side of the full moon, you'll feel queasy, weak, tired. The wolf will beg within you to be released, and it's a constant battle that you must not lose. The beast is very clever; he will wait until you're at the peak of a particularly strong emotion, like fear, anger, hate…or even love, or sorrow. He'll whisper to you, and he'll sound very reasonable. Remember this, Callum; the werewolf is a Dark Creature, and for good reason.

"Your own body will turn on you," he mused, feeling the way his bones ached, despite the beautiful weather and his barely being forty. "It takes years of training for an Animagus to be able to change without health problems; we are never given that luxury, because the transformation is not within our control. You'll find that you get sick more easily, and that it's a much harder and slower process to get well."

"So how does that potion fit into this?" Callum asked shakily, tears welling in his eyes.

"Ordinarily, we cannot control the beast. It has full reign until the sun rises, whatever it may choose to do. The Wolfsbane Potion is a relatively new discovery that allows us to keep our mind while we are transforming. It is still best to keep away from other people, keep away from temptation, because the beast still whispers at the back of your mind, and in wolf form it is all too easy to give in to it. But, because of the potion, I can curl up in office and sleep through the night without any fear of harming a student. I nearly did once," he confessed, cringing with the memory. "We were all very lucky that night, but it was that close, so I left Hogwarts for two years, until Headmaster Dumbledore convinced me to come back."

Sighing again, he reached out with one arm and gently pulled the trembling child against him, not hugging him, simply holding him against his chest, rubbing his hand ins slow circles on the boy's back to ease his labored breathing. "It is not much of a childhood, Callum," he stated gravely. "It's honestly not that much of a life. But, the full moon is three days a month, and it is manageable for the other twenty-eight or so. You know as well as I do that we do not live in a world without prejudice, but we also live in a world that is constantly changing, sometimes for the better. Things change, people change, times change…laws change. I have told you what is terrible about our curse, but there is some good to it, too. When someone you love comes into a room, you can hear them even before they open the door, smell their unique scent in a way that no purely human ever can. You can sense an enemy, and you have far more endurance through pain and trial than most others, if for no other reason than that it is what you live through every day."

He smiled as a new memory came to him, one so old and treasured that it seeped through his very pores to live in his skin as a waking dream. "And, there are still friends. You have to be careful, of course, who you let get close to you, and who you tell your secret to, but the ones that stay in spite of it…" _Padfoot, Prongs…even you, Peter…_ "Those are the truest, deepest friends of a lifetime. Ordinary friendships rarely get tested that way; if you have a friend who is willing to not only accept your curse, but help you with it, decide that they will not allow you to live a half life…they almost make it worth it, Callum."

The boy was crying as he fell silent, shoulders shaking as he attempted to hide it, and Remus let him, simply rubbing his back in slow circles. Hot tears soaked into his robes, but he didn't mind; he could still remember the frighteningly clear scent of his mother's robes when he had cried into hers. He acknowledged that he may have been too blunt, this first talk, but it didn't help to sugar coat it. You couldn't put sugar in the potions; you couldn't put it in your life, either. He had been lucky in that his family had been open and accepting; horrified, yes, but willing to do what had to be done. He hoped for Callum's sake that Heidi could be more than just a non-disapproving face. From what he'd seen of her that day, he thought it a reasonable hope.

If only the boy hadn't been pureblood, he thought. He knew it was a strange sentiment, but he couldn't help it. Callum had grown up with a strict set of expectations, with the knowledge that he would one day enter society as a rich, powerful, and usually charming eligible male, would marry a pureblood beauty with a respectable dowry, and begin the process anew. Dinner tonight had proven that; it was ingrained it his very instinct, that thing that would become so powerful now that the beast had invaded his soul. It was difficult to give up what you had only vaguely dreamed about, plans and goals and aspirations with no tangible definition; how much more so when you knew what was being raped of you?

Pulling the boy closer into his lap, he wrapped his arms around him and rocked him softly, until the even breathing told him that he had cried himself to sleep. After a while, he took him into the new room and gently tucked him into bed. Retreating back to the couch and the comforting flames, he remained awake, fearful of the demons that he knew would stalk his sleep.


	4. Chapter 4: Silence is Scary

**Disclaimer: Know the drill, right? Not mine.**

Chapter Four: Silence is Scary

"Why can't we just use magic?" Callum whined.

"Because it won't come out right," Remus replied distractedly. "Now, hush."

"This is boring."

"Callum, hush."

"You know, this would all be going much faster if we just used magic," he pointed out reasonably.

"Callum?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Hush." Remus smiled as the boy huffed but subsided, and returned his concentration to the wet auburn hair in front of his face. After a week of living with the child, he'd been slowly driven crazy by the way the hair fell constantly into Callum's eyes. At least two inches had to go; it was just harder to judge those two inches now that the hair was wet and brushed straight. He spritzed some more water on it and adjusted his grip on the small pair of scissors. "This is the last of it, I promise."

"It had better be," he grumbled. He sat, not quite patiently, and waited for the interminable haircut to be over. His foot twitched restlessly against the foot of the chair.

"Remus?" A feminine voice called from the fireplace. Both males turned to see Ginny Weasley's head resting in the grate.

"Hello, Ginny," he greeted with a broad smile. "How is life after Hogwarts?"

"Soon to be life back at Hogwarts," she laughed. "Poppy has accepted me as her apprentice, so I'll be back pretty soon for my first training."

"That's wonderful! I'm very proud of you."

"Thanks. What I was actually calling about though, is that Mum wanted me to invite you and Callum to dinner tonight, if you haven't got other plans."

Callum froze at the mention of his name, and Remus placed a gently hand on his thin shoulder. "She knows about Callum?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Of course not," she answered blithely. "Poppy told me so that I would know what was going on when I came back and found an eight year old running around the castle after you." Her warm brown eyes flicked over to the boy with a gentle smile. "Don't worry, Callum, I'm not going to tell anyone." She returned her attention to the older man. "I told Mum that you were taking care of someone; I figured I'd let the two of you decide the specifics, so that stories wouldn't cross and counter."

"I still think you're the most devious of the Weasley children," he chuckled.

"Remus, I'm shocked. Simply shocked," she retorted, her eyes sparkling through her indignation. "I have a reputation to uphold, I'll have you know."

"Yes, you're the one who doesn't get caught."

She giggled, one hand covering her mouth. "Dinner's at seven. Can we expect you?"

"Callum?" he asked carefully. But for that one dinner in the Great Hall, every other meal having been eaten in their chambers away from Severus Snape (at Callum's request), it would be his first time out in company since the attack. He could feel the muscles beneath his hand tighten in tension, but the slowly drying curls moved up and down slightly. "We'll be there, Ginny, and tell your mother thank you."

"Tell her yourself, Remus, you'll see her tonight." Winking at the both of them, her head disappeared.

Callum snorted. "Was she in Hufflepuff?"

For some reason, Remus found that extraordinarily funny, though if anyone had asked him, he couldn't have put his finger on precisely why. When he'd stopped laughing, he wiped his eyes and sighed. "No, she was in Gryffindor," he managed.

"Just as bad."

Remus started laughing again. It was true that Ginny could, on occasion, be incredibly silly, but he also knew that she had perfected the technique of being an artless innocent in order to escape trouble for everything short of murder. He'd been so proud of her when he figured it out he hadn't even been angry when he realized he'd fallen for it.

Much, anyway.

Setting the scissors on the end table, Remus picked up his wand and got rid of the hair clippings and tools, stretching as he went over and sank into the couch. They hadn't really spoken of anything serious since that first night; neither had wanted to broach something so heavy and charged. The thought was bubbling in the back of his brain, though, that it might do the boy some good to let the Weasleys know. Given a secret, they all of them kept it, except perhaps Percy who hadn't spoken to them in four years anyway, and while Molly might smother the child at first, perhaps she could help him in ways that he couldn't: as a parent.

For that was the one thing that was simply baffling to Remus. He knew how to be a teacher, a colleague, a friend, a mentor, even a brother, son, or uncle, but he had not idea how to go about trying to be a parent to this abandoned child. Callum hadn't again cried in front of Remus, but he saw sometimes, when the boy woke up, the streaks down his face of the red puffiness around his eyes.

"Callum," he began hesitantly. "It is completely your choice, but you might want to consider telling the Weasleys about the bite."

Grey and blue eyes flashed furiously. "Why, so it can be all around the wizarding world by this time tomorrow? Pureblood boy becomes freak?"

"They know about me," he said simply.

Callum's mouth hung open. "They do?" he asked finally.

"Yes, and it is actually Arthur and Molly who Dumbledore convince me to come back to teach. I had four of their children in my classes my first year teaching, and two of them in the past few years. I worked very closely with them and all of their children" (except Percy, his mind kept adding) "during the war, and I consider them some of my closest friends. And they have never once been anything but supportive of my lycanthropy."

"But they're purebloods," he protested, forehead scrunched in confusion. "Even if they are poor and muggle-loving, they're still purebloods, and it's a taint far worse than a muggle."

"The Weasleys don't really hold with a lot of that," he replied neutrally. "Besides, Molly Weasley is my favorite cook in the world. She makes the food here at Hogwarts seem paltry by comparison."

"Paltry?"

"Insignificant, unimportant, low," Remus explained. "Trust me, Callum, after eating one of her dinners, you'll never be fully satisfied by normal food again."

"If you say so," he conceded doubtfully. "I don't know that I want to tell them, though."

"You don't have to if you don't want to," his guardian assured. "I just want you to think about it. Meanwhile, let's come up with a good story for while you're here, just in case." Hazel eyes gleaming, Remus rubbed his hands together excitedly and leaned forward on the couch. He was still a Marauder, after all, the last one living, and some things never change.

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At quarter of seven, two figures stepped into the chaotic zoo that was the status quo of the Burrow. Callum shrank back against Remus, immensely grateful for the comforting arm the man put around him. Dozens of things were happening at once, and to a child who had grown up with servants swiftly and silently going about their work, it was rather intimidating.

"Oy!" A tall, gangling redhead cried out, spotting them in front of the hearth. "Remus is here!"

"Remus!"

"Remus!"

Three bodies, including the redhead, threw themselves at the older werewolf, hugging him tightly.

"Harry, Hermione, Ron," he greeted delightedly. "How are all of you?"

"Yes, Remus, so much has changed in the week since you've seen us," Harry teased lightly, his vivid green eyes merry.

"Ginny!" Hermione called up the stairs. "Remus is here!"

There was a flash of pale yellow sundress as a young woman with dark red hair slid down the banister at a breakneck pace, launching into the air and almost landing on her friends. "Hullo, Remus," she said calmly. "Have a nice trip?"

Laughing, he pulled her into a tight hug that she returned. While the Golden Trio was still occupied with Remus, the youngest Weasley child turned her gaze to the half-hiding shadow. "We haven't been formerly introduced," she murmured close to him, remembering that Heidi had placed a great deal of importance of the niceties of society. She could only assume that the brother was the same way. "My name is Ginevra Weasley, but most everyone calls me Ginny."

"Callum Sleipak," he answered shakily, holding out his small, trembling hand. Ginny took it gravely and clasped it, feeling him relax ever-so-slightly.

She glanced at the others. "They may be a little while catching up," she chuckled. "Would you like to wait for Remus? Or would you like me to take you to meet my mum?"

Despite his impression of her in the early afternoon, Callum found himself trusting the older girl. Maybe it was simply because she knew about the bite and still seemed to be welcoming, though that could have been more for Lupin's benefit than his own, but he almost wanted to like her. "It would be more polite to introduce myself to your mother," he reasoned finally, and she hid a smile at the formality of it.

"She'll be in the kitchen; it's this way." Keeping hold of his hand, she tugged lightly and started walking. "I should warn you though, she's a little bit of a dragon. Very nice, and very sweet, but she's a little high-strung, especially with all my brothers running around wreaking havoc." She winked at him conspiratorially. "Just look sweet and be as polite as you've been and she'll absolutely adore you, and she won't have a harsh word said."

_"Even if I tell them my secret?" he wondered, but he said nothing aloud, simply nodded. He had been thinking about it all day, and still hadn't come to a decision about it yet. Remus trusted them with his life; that had to weigh for something, but he just wasn't sure if it was enough._

The kitchen seemed to be the epicenter of the chaos, and Molly Weasley reined over it, somehow managing to cook things whose scents were wafting up Callum's sensitive nose to make his tummy rumble even as she sent the dishes and silverware outside to set themselves, washed the dishes she'd finished using, and chased out any number of redheads. He watched her, fascinated by her ability to focus on so many things at once.

Without any warning, the small plump woman reached out and grabbed the ear of a short, stocky (what else) redhead. "Fred, you try to put one more Canary Cream in that pudding, so help me, you'll be washing every single dish by hand!" She screeched.

"Oh, come on, Mum," another voice complained from the doorway. "I'm Fred."

"Then you'll both be doing it," she decided, ignoring their dismay. "OUT!"

Callum was trying desperately to remember what Ginny had said about her mother being sweet when all of a sudden the matriarch's gaze fell on him, and he gulped. He looked up at her solemnly through his curls, resisting the temptation to shrink against Ginny's side as he had done with Remus. He was a Sleipak; what did he have to fear?

"And who is this?" Molly asked, quite gently.

Ginny winked at her mother over the boy's head. "Mum, this is Callum," she introduced, purposely leaving off his last name. "He's the boy Remus is taking care of right now. Callum, this is my mother, Molly Weasley."

Pushing down his fear, Callum extended his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Weasley, and I thank you for your hospitality in inviting me to dinner."

Molly stared at him like she'd never seen anything like him, one hand pressed to her chest in surprise. "Well…oh, my…you sweet thing!" Before he knew what was going on, he was smothered in a tight hug, that felt strangely good. He hadn't grown up with a great deal of physical contact, but he tentatively put his arms around her as far as they could go and hugged her back.

That was what Remus found when he walked into the kitchen, and he couldn't have been happier. Ginny winked across at him, and he smiled broadly. Bravo, Gin. Molly released his charge and embraced him so tightly he had a fleeting fear of breaking a rib.

"Remus," she scolded gently, "you're not eating enough! There's thin, and then there's you!"

"I was saving room for your wonderful food, Molly," he teased her lightly. "I was telling Callum all about it today, and I made my own mouth water."

"Oh, he is just the most precious child," she gushed, not caring that said child was still in the room. "How did you take up with him, anyway?"

Remus glanced quickly at the abruptly frozen Callum. "His sister asked me to be a mentor, of sorts," he replied easily. "I said I'd be honored to, seeing as I don't have any students for the summer." All of which was technically true, he justified. He'd told the truth; just not the whole truth.

"I got bitten by a werewolf, and Mister Remus is helping me," Callum explained all in a rush, blushing and succumbing to the need to hide his face in Ginny's arm. She made a vague soothing sound and gripped his shoulder.

Molly stared at him again, her kind eyes filling with tears. "Oh, you poor thing," she murmured. "Oh, you poor, poor thing." She shook herself, like a dog coming in out of the rain, and smiled briskly. "Well, if you're with Remus, then you're in the best possible hands, and you know, dear, you can always count on us if you need something."

"I can?" He asked, startled.

"Absolutely, you precious thing," she assured him, stroking his cheek. "You can owl us, of floo call us, or just come on over when you need or want to. It's easy enough to remember," she added. "This is the Burrow."

Callum had been raised in a huge, spotless mansion, where everything was pristine and formal, but suddenly this messy, crazy household with all its noise and activity seemed like the best place in the world.

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Remus smiled as he changed the sleeping child into pajamas and tucked him into bed. Callum had fallen asleep sometime after dessert, curled up on the couch while the adults conversed, their talk ranging freely as it will in the company of old and treasured friends. He hadn't woken up, even when Remus had picked him up and flooed back to their chambers in Hogwarts.

Yawning, Remus stretched and headed down to his own room, changing into the pajamas Harry, Ron and Hermione had given him the previous Christmas. Light blue cotton, they were charmed with fluffy white sheep that wandered about the fabric, chewing aimlessly at the patches of green grass. He couldn't think of anything more utterly inappropriate for a werewolf; he absolutely loved them. He slipped under the covers and fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He woke up to the sound of someone sniffling in his room. He sniffed the air thoughtfully, and identified the signature, noting too the heavy tang of fear. "Lumos," he murmured, and the wand on his nightstand emitted a pale silver glow.

Callum stood at the foot as his bed, eyes red and tear filled, his hands shaking as he held a blanket around him. "I'm sorry," he whimpered. "I shouldn't have woken you."

"Bad dreams?" he guessed, his voice low and gentle. The boy nodded jerkily, and Remus considered his options. "Would you like to spend the rest of the night in here?" he offered, and Callum's lips twitched in a smile.

Going to the other side of the bed, Callum climbed up and under the covers, burrowing next to the man who represented the only safety harbor he knew. Remus put his arms around him, feeling the tremors slowly fade, then cease all together. "I have nightmares, too," he admitted quietly. "It's nothing to be ashamed of."

"How do you make them go away?"

"You don't, really," he whispered honestly. "But there's ways to make them not quite as bad, ways to keep your mind calm so that they're less likely to come."

"Like what?"

"Do you like music, Callum?" The boy nodded, mystified. Remembering something Harry had told him about the search for the Philosopher's Stone, Remus conjured a small lap harp onto the bedside table, enchanting it to make it play softly and continuously. "Music soothes the soul, my boy; even the soul of the wild beast."

"It's not as bad with the music," he agreed, his muscles loosening as he started sinking back into sleep. "It's just the silence that's scary."

Remus stayed awake long into the night, listening to Callum's steady breathing, almost in time to the music. He whole-heartedly agreed; the silence was scary, and for now, the music would be enough. HE sighed and settled himself back into his pillows, the unaccustomed weight and warmth of a small child leaving him feeling vaguely nostalgic. He remembered a day, it felt like so long ago, that he'd fallen asleep on the couch at James and Lily's with baby Harry dozing in his arms. When he'd woken up and felt and saw the infant there, he had felt a corresponding warmth deep in his souls. _Cubs are important_, the wolf inside him had agreed. _Cubs are essential._ It was the seductive softness of the wolf, its clear desire to bring more werewolves into the world, that had convinced Remus never to have children of his own. Now, with Callum sleeping peacefully beside him, he found that he regretted that decision.


	5. Chapter 5: Selene's Chariot

**Disclaimer: cough cough NOT MINE! cough**

Chapter Five: Selene's Chariot

Helping Ginny pull her trunk out of the fireplace, Remus looked around the small set of rooms attached to the hospital wing. It really wasn't much, as she'd warned him; a bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room. He carried the trunk into the newly cleaned bedroom and set it down at the foot of the bed. He had offered to help her unpack, but she had adamantly refused. "The only other one who knows where things are supposed to go is Hermione," she had explained, perfectly serious. "Seeing as she has an important meeting with one of her professors at uni, I'll just have to do it myself. It'll drive me crazy to have things in the wrong place."

She followed him out of the grate and glanced around briefly. "Home, sweet home," she announced, absently brushing the soot and ash off her jeans and t-shirt.

"Home, tiny home," he amended.

"Yes, well. It's still home, and it'll be far quieter than the Burrow. At least until school starts anyway." She looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Where's Callum?"

"Still sleeping," he answered, a shadow passing over his face. "His dreams last night were pretty bad."

"Full moon's tonight? That's not so surprising. Oh, and guess what? More news."

"What's that?" he asked, enjoying her obvious amusement.

"Hermione will be lurking around this summer, as well. She's Snape's apprentice until term starts."

He was suddenly very glad that he had already set the trunk down, or he probably would have dropped it painfully on his foot. "Wait a minute, say that again?"

"Hermione is Snape's apprentice," she repeated dutifully, her brown eyes dancing. "It took some doing, but he finally convinced her."

"HE convinced HER?" he echoed, sure that he'd heard her wrong.

"Took him three months and Merlin knows how many owls to her at uni to do it, too," she added.

A slow, beatific smile spread across the man's face, and Ginny could almost see the Marauder wheels turning. "I can't wait until Callum's ready to eat in the Great Hall again," he murmured blissfully.

Giggling, Ginny went into her bedroom and sat down on the floor in front of her trunk. "So what's the plan for tonight?"

He followed her and leaned against the bedpost. "I'm thinking about taking us down to the Shrieking Shack," he answered gravely. "First transformation is rough, even with the Wolsfbane. I'd really rather not have my office or my chambers destroyed if I can possibly help it."

"What time is Heidi coming out?"

"Excuse me?"

She looked up at him with a slight frown. "I got an owl from Heidi yesterday; she said she was coming out for the next few days, to be with Callum during the sunshine hours."

"She didn't say anything to me or Callum."

Reaching out, she took his hand and squeezed it gently. "Maybe she changed her mind, then. Go get some rest, Remus; you'll need it to help Callum tonight."

"The most devious _and_ the most perceptive," he told her, grinning. "You really lucked out, you know that?"

"GO, Remus," she laughed. "Or did you particularly want to stay while I organize my bras and underwear?"

"I'm going!" he said quickly. Chuckling, he walked out of her rooms and strolled through the hallways. The wolf, so terribly alert this close to the moon, informed him of someone waiting outside his door before he turned the final corner. He sniffed the air thoughtfully, running it through the lists in his mind of familiar scents. He recognized it, but hadn't spent much time close to it. It was perfume, and soap, concern, and little fear. Then Ginny's words clicked in his brain. "Miss Sleipak," he greeted calmly, coming around the corner. "A surprise, to be sure."

She flushed faintly at the hint of censure; she was a pureblood, after all, and there were certain rules she'd neglected to follow. "I wanted to see Callum," she explained. "He hasn't answered my past two letters."

"He's been tired," he replied. "He's been dozing off and on through most of the days recently."

"Can I see him, please?"

Remus gave his password and courteously allowed her to go first. He motioned to the couch, and she took the hint and sat. "I'll go see if he's awake." He walked into Callum's bedroom, where the boy was just beginning to stir. He had mixed feelings about that; he hadn't been planning on waking him up, but at the same time, he wanted him sleeping, wanted him getting rest for the horrors to come.

Grey eyes blinked at him sleepily from under a nest of blankets. "I heard voices," he mumbled.

"Your sister's here."

Callum sat straight up in bed, all haziness gone. "No!" he exclaimed. "The full moon's tonight!"

"She's out in the living room."

Frowning, Callum thought his way through it, and Remus wondered if the boy would be put in Ravenclaw when the time came for him to be a student. Getting out of bed, her quickly changed into the clothes he would wear until the transformation, dragging his fingers through his messy curls. When they were in some semblance of order, he walked out into the living room, leaving a bemused Remus to follow.

"Callum!" Heidi flew off the couch to embrace her brother, her glacier blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. "How are you? I've missed you so much."

"I'm fine, Heidi," he assured her. "Mister Remus has been taking really good care of me."

The blonde smiled and sat back down on the couch, taking his hand in hers. "I'm going to be here for you, Callum," she told him. "I told Mother and Father that I was at a friend's, so I'll be able to stay here for you."

"No, Heidi."

"What?"

"What?" Remus echoed, brow furrowed as he tried to understand the complicated little boy.

"Heidi, I'm your little brother," he began.

"I know that, but-"

"I'm your little brother," he said again, cutting her off. "That's how I want you to think of me. That's the way I want you to picture me in your mind when my name crosses your thoughts. I don't want you to think of me as the monster you'll see if you stay. Please, Heidi, please let me have that," he pleaded.

She stared at him, the tears streaking down her face, but she nodded. "Next week, though," she countered. "Next week, you have to let me come see you."

"Next week," he agreed. "Now you'll need to get to a friend's, just in case."

Smiling sadly, she hugged him tightly, brushing the tears off her cheeks. "I'll be thinking of you," she whispered. "Just remember that I love you."

"I love you, too."

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Remus' feet dragged on the familiar path to the Whomping Willow, and heard a smaller pair of feet showing a similar reluctance. The sun was setting beautifully, the moon not yet risen. They had both drunk the steaming Wolfsbane Potion, delivered by Snape who had said nothing to either of them, although it had taken some doing on Callum's part to get it down. It really was foul, there was no doubt about that, but Remus was simply used to it. If it hadn't been for Molly Weasley's food, he might have doubted if he even still had taste buds.

He found a long stick and picked it up, using it to depress the catch at the base of the murderous tree. The clubbed branches froze, and he silently showed the boy the entrance to the hidden passageway, sliding down inside it. It had been quite a while since he'd come this way, he realized; even years, maybe. Since the Wolfsbane had been created, he'd mostly stayed in his office or at Grimmauld Place. His feet still knew the way, though, and it wasn't long before he and Callum emerged in the dilapidated, torn apart Shrieking Shack.

Callum looked around him, eyes wide at the destruction. "So," he said finally. "I'm guessing it's not haunted, then."

"Only by a werewolf," he answered, almost cheerfully. He was surprised to find that he actually had some decent memories associated with the place; hours of plotting with the Marauders, gloating over mischiefs managed, and finally, having Sirius returned to him, finding out that his friend was innocent. It had been at the cost of learning Peter's guilt, and he had to force himself not to think about Sirius' death two years later, but still…he wasn't plagued by the demons he thought would rise up out of the ruined furniture, the clawed walls, to terrorize him. He led Callum to one of the bedrooms and sat down on the edge of the lumpy mattress, pulling off his shoes. They'd brought spare robes with them, which Remus placed high out of the reach of the wolves, atop an old wardrobe.

"Now's the hardest part," he murmured. "We wait."

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The wolf inside him knew, as soon as the moon rose about the horizon, it knew. Remus could feel it clawing its way out, fur sprouting from his limbs, joints and bones twisting and changing…the savage pain in his head as the beast fought for control. The Wolfsbane made it easier for him to keep it, but it was a reign that was not unchallenged. He panted when it was over, long tongue lolling out of his open mouth, looking for Callum.

The boy was howling as he writhed on the floor, his small body morphing into the stretched wolf, the perpendicular, as Remus had put it that first night, neither human nor wolf. The howls ripped from his throat, howls of fury, or pain, of terror…of victory. He could see the exact moment Callum tried to take control of his own mind, tried to wrest it away from the demon, because the wolf snarled and brought its claws slashing across its snout. What did it care for pain, when the human would feel it for so much longer.

Remus threw himself at his charge and slammed his against the wall. He winced mentally, feeling the claws rip into his side, but he knew how much pain he could take; he didn't want Callum inflicting that pain on himself. The smaller wolf finally slumped against him, and they both fell to the floor, the larger one curling protectively around the cub, waiting and watching. Callum whimpered as the beast rose in his mind again, and Remus ached with the pain the boy was suffering, physically and emotionally. He threw his head back and howled, a sound of such absolute despair that the demons subsided, leaving the shell of a child to sleep fitfully within the circle of his guardian's warmth. Remus laid his chin gently on the top of Callum's head, listening to the small mews of protest as dreams once again invaded. He again debated the wisdom of dreamless sleep potion, but again decided not to; the potion had a way of saturating the bloodstream, until it could no longer be taken. Let him take it only for the worst ones, he reminded himself, tongue lolling out in a morbid lupine laugh at the thought of deciding which night terrors were the worst.

He curled himself tighter around the cub and patiently waited for the long night of hell to be over.

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The sun finally rose, and with it came the renewal of pain, the twist of bodies changing in ways they were never meant to change. When it was over, the two werewolves sat, fully human, on the floor. Remus was suddenly glad that he'd taken his shirt off before the transformation, and could now throw himself into it before the boy could see the deep wounds on his side. It throbbed acutely, and he knew he would have to get it very quickly taken care of, but at the moment, he was not his first concern; Callum was.

The boy stared at him with haunted, red-rimmed eyes, blood seeping from the scratches across his face. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out, but whether that was from emotion or from a night of howls, Remus couldn't tell. He held out his arms plaintively, like a child of younger years, and the man quickly took him up, holding him close against the sobs that began to rack the small body. He said nothing, merely held the boy tight, rocking him back and forth, back and forth. When the worst had passed, Remus gently kissed his forehead, smoothing back the auburn curls.

"Madam Pomfrey will be waiting for us," he whispered. "She'll have potions to ease the pain, and will heal the cuts."

"And then tonight we do it all over again," Callum added morosely.

Remus said nothing; what could he possibly say to refute that, when they both knew it was true? He wrapped them both in their spare robes and, still cradling the boy, headed down into the tunnel and out from underneath the Whomping Willow. The staff all knew what he was, of course, and it was by unspoken agreement that no one looked out those windows when he came staggering out in the mornings, just as no one watched them leave.

When they arrived in the infirmary, Poppy was indeed waiting, along with a pale Ginny Weasley. Remus' heart sank; as much as he told Callum about how his friends supported him, most of them hadn't seen him during a transformation, and even fewer had seen him after. He couldn't ever keep the despair from his eyes, couldn't ever appear less than haunted by the demon battles he'd fought and never quite won. Ginny didn't smile at him, there was little to smile about, but she nodded once in silent sympathy. He laid Callum down on the bed the mediwitch indicated and drew off the outer robes.

"I'm surprised," she noted softly, her wand busy checking him over inside and out. "First transformations usually come out much worse than this."

Remus once again said nothing. In time, the injuries would become less with each transformation, as Callum became more and more practiced at keeping rein over his mind, but it took time to learn that strength, even with the potion. The potion gave them the chance; it did not give them anything else. Part of him knew that it wasn't _truly_ as dark as he was making out, but he always felt this way coming back in the morning, like he'd never smile again, never laugh.

Poppy healed the cuts across Callum's face with a few words, then had him drink a couple of potions, including a dreamless sleep potion. He knew from experience that the ones after a transformation, especially first transformation, were always the worst. Once the cub (_boy,_ he told the wolf firmly) was sleeping peacefully, Poppy turned her attention to Remus. "How was it really?" she asked kindly.

"Awful," he admitted, his voice scratchy and hoarse. "It'll take time before he can control it well."

Poppy nodded and set about getting him his own set of potions, bustling over to the supply cabinet.

Ginny walked up to Remus and pushed him gently onto the bed in a sitting position. "Let me see," she ordered him quietly.

"See what?" he hedged. He could take care of it himself, if a little awkwardly; he didn't want her seeing what the beast was capable of. She just looked at him, patiently, and not knowing why he gave in, he pulled off his robes and shirt. "How did you know?"

"You grimaced when his hand clutched your side as you were putting him down," she answered calmly, carefully inspecting the injuries. "Lay down on your other side, will you? It'll make this easier to clean." He obeyed, and she sat next to him, casting the charms that would clean it, keeping out anything that might cause infection. They were very deep, he knew, but she didn't look horrified, only concerned, as she performed the spells to heal it. They were too deep to heal completely with magic, so she conjured some clean white bandages and patched him up expertly, her small hands tying a tight knot. He looked down at his abdomen, wrapped in the linen, and sighed.

Poppy came back with the potions and nodded in approval at Ginny's work. "Good girl, you knew just what to do. Remus, I have to go to Diagon Alley to pick up some more supplies for the infirmary, but I won't be gone long."

Remus thought about protesting, but drank his pain-easing potion instead, watching her bustle off.

He and Ginny sat in silence for a long time, and she eventually moved closer to the head of the bed. She reached out to the bedside table and dipped a cloth into the waiting bowl of water, wringing it out and gently wiping off his face. He hadn't taken the sleep potion, but he could feel her cool, capable hands brushing back his sweat-darkened hair, lulling him, soothing him. After a while, he heard her talking quietly.

"Sirius told us once, at Grimmauld Place, that you didn't like people seeing you after. He said you didn't like people seeing what was inside you. I understood, I suppose, though I didn't really. The werewolf was something you were inflicted with, not something you chose, and all I could see was how good a person you were in spite of it, how you lived and loved your life around it. It was Harry who helped me understand completely." She paused and rewet the cloth, applying it to the aching muscles in the back of his neck. "I was the only one he'd allow near him after he got possessed, and that was mainly because I didn't give him a choice. He hated it, hated me seeing how weak he was from the fight he couldn't yet win. It embarrassed him, I think. He thought there was something wrong with him that something so evil could thrive inside of him.

"There isn't, of course," she continued, still in that low, gentle tone, one that calmed both wolf and man. "The more good someone is, the more evil can feed off of them, thrive off of them. I decided that must be part of what goes through your mind, coming back each morning. And then I decided that you're awfully selfish, Remus J. Lupin. Do you really think that we don't see you for who and what you are? You're giving us very little credit. Sometimes, when you're really upset, we can see the wolf rise in your eyes. I won't say that it's not frightening, but did we ever leave the room? We're your friends, Remus, and that has to count for something.

"You keep up this cheerful front, but I can see through it, sometimes, when it's quiet and you don't think anyone is watching. It's like you carry the weight of the entire world on your shoulders; Harry used to have that same look. It's a possession, Remus. Have you ever looked up that word in the dictionary? One of its meaning is 'the state of being controlled by a supernatural force or strong emotion'. Did you hear that? 'Controlled by'. As in, you don't have control over it, it has control over you. And you're not the only one to know what it's like. Harry used to see Voldemort torturing and killing people, feeling his joy and his amusement at the waste. He said that sometimes, he felt everything so strongly that he would wake up wondering if it was really _him_ that was feeling the glee, feeling that satisfaction.

"And I woke up one day in my first year at Hogwarts and realized that I had just all but killed one of my only friends." He started at that, but she kept him down on the bed with a firm hand on his shoulder. "Shush. I'm not finished yet. I spent the year being possessed by Tom Riddle, remember? He pretended to be my friend, pretended to be so understanding of me, and I trusted him. And he had me killing roosters, cutting myself to get blood to write with on the walls, setting a basilisk on people I knew, people I liked…on Hermione. And then he used to me to try to kill Harry, and then he would have killed me. I still have nightmares, you know. Almost every night, I wake up just short of screaming, remembering how I'd wake up that first year and not know why there was blood on my robes, not know why I had cuts on my arms. I'd wake up and hear that someone else had been petrified, and I'd wonder why I couldn't remember anything I'd done the night before.

"You're wallowing, Remus, and now you're doing it for both yourself and Callum, and it's going to kill you one of these days. So stop it. There are people who can help you, _I_ can help you. You need to stop pushing us away just because you're afraid of what we might see. We just came out of a war less than a year ago. No one's innocent anymore. We're not going to run screaming from the room just because you growl a little when you're angry. Snape growls; what's his excuse?" She saw him smile slightly and placed the cloth back in the bowl, leaving it there and just stroking his grey-streaked hair back from his forehead, her fingertips grazing his temples. "We see you inside and out, and love you anyway. So try remembering that, yeh?

"Now, I want you to take your dreamless sleep potion. I will be right here when either of you wakes up." She held the vial to his protesting lips. "I'm not going anywhere," she told him again. "Callum needs you to be rested, and you need you to be rested, and I won't take any argument on this. Drink."

Helplessly, he obeyed, and he quickly fell off to sleep, tumbling over the brink to oblivion still feeling her soothing touch. Somewhere, in the part of his brain that kept thinking even while he slept, he knew that Selene's Chariot would ride across the sky twice more before granting him a short reprieve, and he ached for the torment Callum would be going through, but suddenly, the morning after didn't seem quite so bad.


	6. Chapter 6: The Darker Voice

**Disclaimer: sigh they're still not mine.**

Chapter Six: The Darker Voice

The three long nights of hell finally passed, the three days of infinite torture for the moment no more than a bad memory. For twenty-seven days, he didn't have to hate and fear his old friend and enemy. He watched the sun set from his window, able to appreciate it now that he didn't have to dread what came after. Callum had finally managed to keep some food down today, a bit of broth and bread, after his stomach had rejected everything since his first night of transformation. He'd gotten the boy settled down into bed, and seemed to be sleeping peacefully, snoring slightly through the healing spell Poppy had placed on his nose that morning.

Yawning, he decided he might as well go to bed himself. He was exhausted, despite Ginny forcing him to rest during the day, and he couldn't think of a single part of him that didn't ache terribly. He changed into his beloved, ridiculous pajamas and fell asleep before he got under the covers. For once, he didn't dream, just slept, even his brain turned off, or at least not sharing its thoughts with his awareness.

It was the bumping that first woke him. He laid there in his bed, head fuzzy with sleep, trying to figure it out. It was a vague sound, muffled by walls, like someone was banging a piece of furniture against a wall. No, the bumping woke him up; it was the screaming that brought him out of bed.

He flew to Callum's room and found him in the throes a night terror. He swore fluently; how could he have not given him Dreamless Sleep Potion! It was only one night removed from the full moon, the wolf was still strong, and it was fighting the eight year old boy for control of his own body. Callum thrashed about, his nails clawing bloody weals through his skin wherever they touched, his human howls only slightly less frightening than his animal ones. Still swearing, Remus jumped up onto the bed and wrestled the cub (_BOY, damn you!)_ flat on his back, straddling his waist and pinning his arms above his head. He bucked and kicked, trying to dislodge the man, but Remus didn't shift.

Adjusting his grip on the boy's wrists to one hand, he pulled his wand out of his sleeve and started a fire in the hearth. "Accio floo powder," he snarled, and as soon as it got into the room he sent it into the flames, which roared a merry green. "Ginny!" He yelled. "Ginny! I'm sorry to wake you, but I need you and a calming potion in Callum's room NOW!"

A few breaths later, the young woman stumbled through the flames, a vial clutched in her hand and her dressing gown haphazardly tied about her. Shaking her head to clear it, she glanced at the struggling figures at the bed and immediately understood. She slid onto the bed near Callum's head and stroked his forehead lightly. "Callum, you must make the beast be quiet," she told him, using the calm, gentle tone that she had used with Remus before. "Callum, I know it's hard, but you must make him listen to you." As he started to quiet, she brought the vial to his lips. "I want you to drink this, Callum, all right? It will make you feel more yourself."

Callum took a mouthful, but couldn't swallow. With a determination that frightened Remus more than a little, Ginny held the boy's nose closed and massaged his throat, forcing him to swallow. She did that four more times until the vial was empty, and it took only a moment longer for Callum to sag weakly into the mattress. Ginny caressed his face, her cool hands smoothing back his sweat-soaked curls, her voice washing over him in gentle waves. The beast within Remus, who had been trying to take advantage of his fear for Callum, subsided at that voice, and he wondered if she had ever considered taming werewolves for a career.

Opening terrified eyes, Callum stared at the girl, his entire body starting to quake. "He's so strong," he whispered hoarsely. "Why does he have to be so strong?"

"You're stronger," she told him simply, starting to heal the cuts he'd inflicted on himself.

"I'm not strong," he snorted.

"No?" she asked mildly. "Then how is it we're talking to the boy, and not the beast?"

Remus frowned thoughtfully. He knew that it was due to Ginny and the calming potion, but Callum didn't seem to know that. Sighing, he shifted to sit next to the boy, rather than on top of him, and helped Callum into a sitting position, placing pillows behind his back.

The redhead took the small hand in hers, rubbing slow circles into his palm. "This isn't something you can learn in a day, sweetie," she told him, smiling sadly. "It'll take time. The one thing you mustn't do, though, is give up." She gathered the trembling boy into a hug, which he at first resisted, but he sank into her embrace and started crying again. He was only eight years old, this was all just too hard. Ginny held him tight, a little tighter than was really comfortable, but he found that it helped keep the wolf at bay, that tiny edge of pain that the wolf couldn't understand. He sobbed into her shoulder until he once again cried himself to sleep.

Near to tears herself, Ginny rearranged the pillows and tucked him back in, taking the time to calm herself down. Her dressing gown slipped off one shoulder as she reached up to push her hair out of her eyes, and Remus gaped, realizing for the first time what she was wearing.

The Ginny Weasley he'd seen in the midnight madness of Grimmauld Place during the war usually wore a flannel nightgown, occasionally pajamas like the boys, plain and practical and unassuming, sometimes even cute. This Ginny was wearing a deep plum silk nightgown, v-necked in back and front, falling in graceful folds to the floor, and clinging to her in all the right places. _Wait a minute_, he caught himself. _Since when did Ginny have 'all the right places'?_ She pulled the matching dressing gown back up and tied it neatly in place, hiding the nightgown from view, but still…it was suddenly a softer, more elegant, and much older Ginny that was sitting on the other side of the bed.

"I'll be right back," Ginny whispered, and she tiptoed back into the flames. She re-emerged a moment later carrying another vial. "Dreamless Sleep," she explained, carefully getting the sleeping boy to drink it down. "He should probably take it until he recovers his strength, so he'll be better able to deal with the nightmares." She glanced at the still silent Remus out of the corner of her eye. "Or is it the wolf?"

He flinched violently, then swore at himself; he really should remember by now that Ginny always knew more than she let on. Hadn't her speech the other morning given him enough proof of that? "When will he wake up?" he asked instead of replying.

"Not for another six hours, at least, and probably not for around ten," she answered.

"Let's go out to the living room, then." She nodded and followed him out, sitting next to him on the couch with her feet curled gracefully underneath her. He stared moodily into the flames until her heard a noise that sounded suspiciously like a muffled giggle. He glanced at his companion, who gazed serenely into the flames. _Wait for it_, the wolf warned him, and a moment later, a brief spasm crossed her face and the sound repeated. "What could possibly be funny?" he asked sourly.

"I'm sorry," she laughed, giving up. "It's just…well…Hermione told me about them, but I hadn't even actually seen them, and she was right, they're just so deliciously inappropriate!"

It took him a moment to realize she was talking about his pajamas. "I like them," he protested defensively.

"So do I, but that doesn't change the humor," she retorted, sticking her tongue out at him. "Look at Gred and Feorge; they sell pranks for a living, and a very good living, at that. People need to be able to laugh nowadays." She fell silent, watching the shadows dancing over his brooding face, throwing the lines and planes into sharp relief. He was so thin, and the darkness only served to make him appear even more spectral. Well, at least until you saw the pajamas. She took a deep breath, weighing out all of the consequences of what she was about to do, but decided that she had to know. Something had been bothering her for eight years now, longer than she'd known Remus, and she had to see if someone else had the answer. "Remus," she began quietly. "When the wolf speaks, does it speak with your voice or its own?"

He jumped to his feet like he'd been bitten (_oh, good analogy, Ginny, bloody brilliant)_ and stared at her incredulously. "What!" he demanded.

"Calm down, Remus. I just wanted to know." Still glaring, he sat down slowly in an armchair, glowering at her darkly. "And you can stop looking at me like that," she added. "I survived seven years of Potions with Snape, no way in hell are you going to frighten me out of my hits."

That seemed to take some of the wind out of his sails, and he returned his gaze to the fire. The silence stretched out uncomfortably between them, and Ginny returned to her contemplation of her hands. She couldn't understand her hands; she'd never thought about it before coming to Hogwarts, but if anyone had asked her what part of her she disliked the most, she would have answered her hands. She would have given the same response to the reverse question, as well. She knew, as she had seen with Callum and several others, that she had a soothing touch. It was that, among other things, that had made her decide to go into healing. Her fingers were slender and nimble, but still strong, able to tie a bandage in place or undo a tough knot, yet gentle enough to take a pulse manually or play the piano. Her hands had bandaged many a victim during and after the war, had written countless essays during seven years of school, and had strangled roosters. They had put ice on bruises, caused bruises, and held off bruises. She just couldn't figure them out. She held them a little closer to the fire. Ever since she'd been almost killed by Tom, her hands never seemed to be warm. They were always just a little bit colder than everyone else's, even in summer. She's spoken to Poppy about it once, and been told that she had been so close to death that it wasn't a surprise that she had some trouble with her extremities. It wasn't in her feet, though, only in her hands, the hands that had unwittingly released him from his diary and done his bidding.

She was so absorbed in her reflection that she didn't notice when Remus' gaze turned from the fire to her. He studied her thoughtfully, allowing the wolf the use of his senses to get that extra impression. He couldn't read her face. There were things passing across it that he couldn't decipher, couldn't name, so very many things that were there one heartbeat and gone the next. The wolf sniffed the air, labeling the current than ran underneath it all. _Pain_. He wondered if perhaps he had overreacted a little to her question, but no one, not even Dumbledore, had ever asked him something like that before, nor so simply. He wondered what it was about her hands that held so much of her attention.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he relented, and she jumped at the sound of his voice. "I shouldn't have snarled at you."

"It was a personal question," she shrugged, not meeting his eyes.

"Why did you want to know?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"Because I would hate to think that it spoke with your voice," she replied, not entirely truthfully. He could smell the small lie, but he let it go for the moment. "You and Callum are both so sweet…it doesn't seem right that such a seductive madness should have such a sweet voice."

"Seductive madness?" he echoed, rolling the words on his tongue as if he could taste them. He'd never heard it described that way before, but in the edges of his awareness, it made a kind of sense, and what she said next confirmed it.

"Isn't it? Isn't it terribly tempting to just give in, let the beast have control? Not to worry, not to fear…not to care. To go out into the wild and do whatever you want, hurt things for no reason…doesn't it ever seem like it would be better? Easier?"

"What's easier isn't always what's better," he reminded her automatically.

"Of course not," she agreed. "But doesn't it still seem that way? When you feel pain, isn't the idea of spreading it around terribly appealing? How much easier would it be to believe its false promises if it spoke to you in your own voice?"

His hazel eyes distant, he mulled over what she'd said, listening to the clamor of the demon inside him. "No," he answered suddenly. "It's not my voice."

She regarded him strangely for a moment, with an expression he couldn't even begin to read. "I'm glad," she said finally, simply, and the stillness fell once more.

He shifted in his chair, the old wooden supports creaking quietly. "Ginny, why did you ask? The whole truth, this time," he added, seeing her about to protest.

She didn't answer immediately, her eyes falling back to her hands. "Sometimes," she whispered, and he had to lean forward to make sure he caught everything, "sometimes I can still hear him, in my head. Sometimes I can still hear Tom. He started out so nice, so understanding…everything a diary should be. But towards the end, I was too much in his power, and he didn't need the pretenses anymore. I can still hear what he said to me, only sometimes…sometimes it's in my own voice, and I can't figure out who's saying it, me or him. It frightens me, to hear my voice saying those things. I just wondered if anyone else ever heard their own voice mocking them, destroying them. I asked Harry once, and he said it was his voice but higher, more sibilant, but that's just what Voldemort sounded like all the time. The only other person I knew I could ask was you…" she trailed off, ducking her head against her shoulder. A curtain of deep red hair fell forward to hide her flaming cheeks from view.

He didn't know what to say. No one ever really talked about Ginny's first year if they could help it. They'd all assumed that it would be too traumatic for her to be reminded of it time and time again. He had learned more about Ginny, the real Ginny, in the past three days than he'd known in seven years of friendship, and that both frightened and astonished him. The silence became unbearable, and he opened his mouth to break it, promptly sticking his foot in it. "Since when did the Littlest Weasley have a nightgrown like that?"

She looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow. "Probably since the Littlest Weasley stopped being so little anymore," she answered dryly. "Hermione gave it to me for a graduation present. She said every girl should have something soft and silky to sleep in." She had said a great deal else, besides, but she didn't really think Remus needed to know any of that. It was a conversation induced by the giddiness of coming of age, the warmth of butterbeer, and the high induced by far too much sugar, and two teenage girls in a flat on their own. No, she decided, Remus definitely didn't need to know the rest of what had been said that long, happy night. "Do you have a blanket?" she asked suddenly.

"Are you cold?"

"A little, yes."

He stood up and headed into his bedroom. "Why don't you just cast a Warming Charm on yourself?" he queried, coming back into the room.

"Why bother with a Warming Charm when you can just get a blanket?" she answered. "It's a waste of magic, and it's sloppy." He smiled and draped it around her shoulders, but when he went to move back to his chair, she took his hand and tugged him back into his original seat on the couch. "I worry so for Callum," she said suddenly. "He's only eight years old."

"Older than I was," he realized suddenly.

"Yes, but you still had your family, as I recall," she pointed out. "Mum has gotten pretty mad at me sometimes, but I can't ever see her kicking me out of the house. She still sets Percy's place at every meal, hoping he'll come home. It's like they're blaming him for getting bitten."

"He's the son of a pureblood family who now considers his blood to be tainted. They would probably have preferred him to marry a muggle than this shame; the muggle they could kill off or bribe away, and cover the whole thing up with little said. They can't make this go away. The more I think about it, though, the more I think that he's better off than if they hadn't abandoned him."

"Remus, how can you say that?"

"Think about it, Ginny," he told her calmly, holding his hand up to forestall further comment. "We live in a society that hates and fears werewolves, a society that actually makes laws to take away our rights. It's bad enough living out here on the fringes with all the prejudice that goes on; could you imagine growing up in pureblood society that way? Most of them are not nice people, Ginny, you know that better than most, I should think. Just imagine what they would have done to him, what he could have become."

She nodded pensively, seeing his point. She sighed and rested her head against the back of the couch. "What's wrong with humans, that they make each other live this way?" she murmured.

"I wish I knew…"

She uncurled her legs and wove gracefully to her feet, hissing as they touched the cold stone floor. "I should go," she remarked. "Poppy starts her lessons very early."

"Floo?" he offered.

"No, thank you. The fresh air will clear my head, help me sleep."

"I'll walk you out, then." They went to the door and he opened it. "Good night, Ginny."

"Good night, Remus." She smiled, albeit it a bit sadly.

He put his arms around her and held her close, wanting to banish the sadness. He was just beginning to understand that Ginevra Weasley was a very complicated young woman, but he wanted to know more, wanted to know why the wolf inside him howled joyfully each time he caught her sweet, spicy scent of vanilla and cinnamon. Her body molded against him, his hands sliding across the silk as she clung to him, gratefully receiving the comfort of simple human contact. "When the nightmares come," he whispered in her ear, "what do you do?"

"I let them come," she answered simply. She met his hazel eyes, and he found that he couldn't look away. "And then I wake up, pray for someone to rescue me, and eventually fall back asleep, reminding myself that nightmares aren't always true, even when they're memories. They're not true, so there's nothing to fear. Some nights I even believe it."

"Ginny…"

She shook her head against whatever he had been about to say; she didn't want pity. Instead, she shifted her weight onto her toes and kissed him gently, her lips soft and warm against his. Her fingers slid through his grey-streaked hair, teasing against the back of his neck. For a moment, he was too stunned to respond, but then, and he wasn't sure why, he kissed her back, deepening it as he pulled her closer against him. _Yes_, the demon agreed, _want her_. Horrified, he released her and stumbled back.

She saw right through him, in a way that he never wanted her to, saw both the wolf's desire, and the man's fear. Sighing, she smiled again, a tiny, painful quirk of her lips and a fleetingly arched eyebrow. "Good night, Remus," she said again, her bare feet padding swiftly down the hall towards the hospital wing.

He stared after her, stunned. What had just happened? When had she started becoming anything more than his former student, the Littlest Weasley? When had she become able to see the wolf so clearly, understand so much? He sighed and shook his head. When didn't matter; the question was what was going to come next. And he didn't know the answer.

One thing was certain, though, as he reluctantly closed his door: he needed to take a very cold shower before returning to bed, or the rest of his night would be spent in unpleasantly pleasant dreams. Sighing again, he headed off towards his bathroom.


	7. Chapter 7:Werewolf with a Tan

**Disclaimer: See me. See me run. See me cower in abject terror at the thought of anyone trying to sue for having the audacity to claim any of these things as mine. See me cry. Get the point?**

Chapter Seven: Werewolf with a Tan

When Hermione Granger arrived in her new quarters at Hogwarts bright and early the day before she was supposed to start her apprenticeship, the last thing she expected to find was one Ginny Weasley stretched out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. "Ginny?" she exclaimed, startled, as she pulled her shrunken belongings out of her cloak pocket. "Ginny, what's wrong?"

Ginny didn't move, didn't twitch, didn't even blink so far as the older girl could tell.

Gingerly, Hermione went over to the bed and sat next to her friend. "Ginny?" she whispered.

"I kissed him," the redhead said suddenly.

Hermione blinked owlishly. "Kissed who?" she asked stupidly.

"REMUS!"

She couldn't help it, she started giggling. After glaring at her for a moment, Ginny started, too. The bushy haired girl help her sit up and they embraced fondly. "When did you kiss him?"

"Last night," she murmured into her best friend's shoulder.

"And?"

"He recoiled."

"He WHAT!"

"He recoiled," Ginny repeated dully. "He was kissing me back, and then all of a sudden, he stumbled away. I could see it, though, Mione, I could see the wolf in his eyes, and I think that was what he was afraid of."

They sat next to each other on the large bed, not really looking at each other, simply being together. "Was he a good kisser?" Hermione wanted to know after a moment.

"Once he unfroze, oh my god, yes," Ginny answered with a laugh. Then she sighed. "I shouldn't have done it."

"He kissed you back!"

"Yes, but the things we'd been talking about, and it was just…and then he…and then it just…I shouldn't have done it," she finished.

Hermione regarded her friend thoughtfully, her brown eyes considering. The wheels were turning, and she let them, willing to see where they would go. The idea her brain came up with was pure genius. "We're going to the lake," she announced.

"We're what?"

"We're going to the lake. Dumbledore told me last night that the giant squid is visiting a friend, and the mer-people and grindylows don't come up to the surface."

"All right," Ginny agreed slowly, wondering what had brought that up.

"And what's more, we're taking Callum with us." Hermione had of course met the child at the Burrow, and learned about the bite over dinner, but she wanted to get to know him a little bit. More importantly, she wanted to see how he and Ginny got along; it could be instrumental to the plan slowly forming in the back of her mind.

"We're doing what?"

"Honestly, Ginny, aren't you listening? The child has been stuck in Remus' chambers for almost a month. This will be good for him, and you could use a break, too. Severus told me-"

"Severus?" Ginny interrupted. "Since when did he become _Severus_?" She goggled at the hint of a blush on Hermione's cheeks.

"Well, I'm hardly his student anymore, and we both agreed that it would be asinine for me to call him _Master_ Snape, so he told me to call him Severus."

"All right," Ginny conceded, knowing there was more to it but willing to leave it at that. For the moment. "I'll go get a suit and find something for Callum, and then we'll meet you down at the lake."

"Sounds like a plan."

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The girls laughed as Callum raced down to the water, throwing himself into the lake with gleeful abandon. "It's cold!" he yelled, and they only laughed harder. They spread out the large blanket they'd brought with them and set their things down on top of it. Hermione, dressed in a modest black one-piece, didn't have much intention of going in the water, and had brought with her several of the books the Potions Master had asked her to look over before their first day.

Ginny had also brought books with her, some of her standard healing books and even a muggle one about human anatomy. She shrugged at Hermione's questioning look. "I'll probably go into the water for a bit, but I would feel bad about not getting some studying done. I would feel like I was blowing off Poppy."

Hermione nodded and looked back at Callum, hiding a smile. Ginny, always the more adventurous of the two girls, had chosen a mint green bikini that showed very clearly that she was no longer a little girl. She'd thrown a pair of faded blue cut-offs over the bottoms, and tied her long hair back in a loose braid. "Study, then swim?" she asked.

"Swim when it's hotter," the other girl agreed, opening her first book.

Callum felt no such restraint. Even with no one else there, he frolicked and splashed and made a great deal of noise, constantly causing the girls to look up and smile. When his aching body reminded him of the trials of the past few days, he simply stretched out on his back, floating underneath the blue sky and burning sun.

Dobby brought them lunch a little after noon, and the three feasted in time-honored tradition; burgers, hot dogs, fries, and popsicles. It was a favorite of Hermione's American cousin, one the girl had been only too glad to embrace and spread to her friends.

"Can I go back in the water now?" Callum asked when they'd finished.

"Not yet," Ginny answered with genuine regret. "We have to wait half an hour for the food to settle. Besides, sitting in some shade will do you good for a little while. You're turning rather pink." She conjured a shade over their blanket and scooted to create a place for him to sit down. "Here, let me get some sunscreen on you."

"You didn't do that back in Remus' chambers?" Hermione was startled.

"We didn't stay there very long," Callum told her. "We didn't want to wake him up."

She glared at the faintly blushing redhead. "_Coward_," she mouthed, but Ginny ignored her and applied herself to the task of protecting the boy from further sun.

"How about we take a nap, while waiting for the food to settle?" Hermione suggested, giving her friend a meaningful look. "That way we won't have to head in as early."

Callum nodded; he was still awfully tired from the full moon. He hoped, despite Remus' words, that he was only so drained because it was his first, but there was no sense in pushing himself too hard. Laying out on the blanket, he quickly fell asleep, his head finding its way into Ginny's lap.

Hermione waited a few minutes before pouncing on her prey; she had no desire for Callum to actually be awake and hear any of this. "You told me you let Remus know where Callum was going to be," she accused.

"I left a note," Ginny shrugged. "That's letting someone know, right?"

"Coward," Hermione said again.

"Mione, he pushed me away," the redhead said seriously. "Even if it was only because of the wolf, which it wasn't, he still pushed me away. Besides, he still thinks of me as nothing more than the Littlest Weasley, as reminded me last night?"

"How did he do that?"

"He twitched at my nightgown."

Hermione giggled, knowing exactly what she was talking about. "Did he like it?"

"He asked me 'since when did the Littlest Weasley were a nightgown like that'."

"He didn't."

"He did."

Closing her eyes, the older girl shook her head in amazement. Men. They were all stupid. All of them. "Don't give up, Ginny," she said instead, reaching out to take her friend's hand. "You two are meant to be together. I mean, you've had a crush on him since you met him."

"And I had a crush on Harry for how many years?" Ginny reminded. "Longevity does not necessarily indicate a favorable outcome. I shouldn't have kissed him."

"Well, maybe that's what he needs to see that you're more than just the Littlest Weasley."

"He once told Dumbledore that he loves me like a niece."

"Things change," Hermione told her firmly. "No regrets. You are not allowed to have any regrets."

Smiling, Ginny surrendered. "All right," she laughed. "No regrets. Kissing him was a stupid thing to do, but no regrets."

"I'll let you have that for now." They both laughed, and Hermione watched Ginny absently stroke Callum's wet curls, brushing them back away from his slightly burnt face. "He's a sweet kid, isn't he?"

"He is," she agreed. "Horrible nightmares, though."

"Remus once told us it came with the territory."

"Doesn't make them any better, nor any easier to handle," she returned darkly.

Hermione cocked her head to one side, regarding her friend with interest. "You would know, wouldn't you?"

"What?"

"Ginny, I shared a bedroom with you at Headquarters, remember? I know you still have nightmares."

"I don't really want to talk about it right now, Mione," she whispered. When the other girl protested, she held up her hand. "We…I talked about it last night. I just don't want to go through it all again so soon."

Hermione nodded; Ginny was far more complicated than the boys. Far more patience was required. Being a Gryffindor, patience wasn't something she had in abundance, but she could certainly try.

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Remus finished questioning Madam Pomfrey and went back out into the hallway, seriously starting to worry. There was no sign of Callum. He'd scoured their chambers, looked in the library, in the Great Hall, in Ginny's rooms (well, he'd questioned the statue guarding her door, anyway), and even the hospital wing, and there was absolutely no sign of him. He went towards a window and opened it, needing the fresh air to clear his panicked thoughts. Laughter floated on the wind to catch his attention, and he stared out, refusing to believe that it could be that simple. By the lake, was that…YES!

He sprinted down three sets of stairs, through two hallways, and out the front doors, feeling his breath start to hitch as he made the final stretch to the lake. "CALLUM!" he yelled, and the noise stopped.

Three sets of eyes stared at him from the water, very startled, and the little boy sank down until he was invisible up to his nose. "Good to see you, too, Remus," Hermione greeted dryly, having been convinced to play in the lake with the other two.

"Hermione?" he asked, momentarily distracted from his mission. "What are you doing here?"

"I have an apprenticeship with Severus, remember?"

"When did he become Severus?"

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ginny, who stifled a giggle. "_Men_," she mouthed, and the other girl nodded.

"Callum, is this where you've been?" Remus sighed as the boy nodded, still hiding up to his nose. "Callum, I'm sorry I yelled, but I was worried. I didn't know where you were."

The head came up a little, revealing his face to the chin. "We left a note," he murmured sourly.

"You did?"

"Right on your nightstand."

Now that he thought about it, he could vaguely recall seeing a piece of parchment lying there, but his first thought had been to check and make sure the child was okay, he hadn't stopped to read it. He realized that he'd made rather a fool of himself, and cast about desperately for anything that would deny the girls the chance to torture him with it. His eyes fell on Callum. "You turned pink," he said stupidly, and cursed himself silently.

He really should have learned by now not to open his mouth when he was flustered. He inevitably stuck his foot in it, and he was getting highly sick of the frequency with which he seemed to be doing it these days.

"Do you want to, or shall I?" Hermione asked, and Ginny bowed towards her, sweeping her hand across the surface of the water. The former Head Girl turned back to the professor. "Yes, Remus, he turned pink. That tends to happen when pale people go out into this thing called sunshine."

"Thanks ever so," he managed. He couldn't help but notice that Ginny still hadn't said anything, simply standing waist deep in the water watching everything going on. He also couldn't help but notice that she looked really good in that swimsuit. "I thought you said you had lessons," he noted.

She pointed over to the stack of books on their lounging blanket. "Poppy told me I could do bookwork today, so I studied through the morning."

"Ah." They stared at each other, the previous night etched clearly in their minds, neither wanting to mention it.

"Would you like to join us?" Hermione asked, catching the tension and purposefully moving to destroy it.

"Ah, no thank you, Hermione," he answered carefully, trying to avoid the thought of him in swimming trunks. His side still hadn't healed, especially not after two repeat nights of the wounding, and he didn't want Callum to know about it.

Ginny seemed to catch on, because she shook her head at her best friend. "Come on, Mione, he's a teacher; he has a certain dignity that he has to maintain."

"Thank you, Ginny," he said gratefully, and the older girl nodded in disappointment.

"Besides, have you ever seen a werewolf with a tan? We might get blinded by the reflection."

"HEY!"

Hermione doubled over laughing, forgetting for a moment that she was chest high in the water. When she'd stopped choking on water and could breathe again, she continued laughing at Remus' indignation.

Ginny turned to Remus, arching a single eyebrow. "Well?"

And, sadly enough, he really couldn't deny it.

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Despite not going in the water, Remus stayed down by the lake with them the rest of the day, trying to remember the last time he'd felt so completely relaxed. By unspoken agreement, neither he nor Ginny mentioned the previous night, and it thrilled his heart to see Callum acting like a normal eight year old. He had been absolutely astounded when Ginny and Hermione got into a splashing contest, and he smirked smugly when Ginny won. Hermione may have been best friends with the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Get-Into-All-Kinds-Of-Dangerous-Situations, more affectionately known as Harry, but Ginny had grown up with six brothers; you didn't survive if you didn't know how to fight dirty.

When night fell, three thoroughly pruny young people climbed out of the lake, and Remus built a huge bonfire on the bank. Recruiting Dobby's assistance once more, they introduced Callum to the fine art of making s'mores. Their eyes stung from the smoke, but they laughed at the boy's determination to toast the perfect marshmallow. They each had a preference, they'd found; Remus liked his hot but still white, Ginny liked hers lightly golden, and Hermione surprised them all by liking it black and crisped. Ginny had once Switched the finished marshmallow for a piece of coal, and Hermione hadn't noticed until it was almost too late. Callum made the resolution to try them all before he chose his favorite.

Ginny gently took the long toasting stick from his hands when he fell asleep sprawled in her lap, settling him into a more comfortable position. From the corner of her eye, she saw Hermione yawning hugely and gave her a dirty look, a clear warning. The 'subtlety' would be lost on Remus, as he was a Gryffindor, as well, but Ginny had always prided herself on having just enough Slytherin tendencies to notice when someone was putting her on. Or setting her up.

"Well, my long hours of doing potions dirty work begins tomorrow," Hermione mentioned casually. "I'd better turn in. Ginny, I'll take your books up for you."

"You're too kind."

Remus wondered briefly at the frostiness to her voice, but decided that it was likely his imagination. He felt almost giddy from the rather large amount of chocolate floating through his system, and inclined to be optimistic.

After Hermione's departure, the pair stayed seated on the grass, staring into the flames. The fire was starting to die down, the embers glowing deep red rather than the bright orange it had been. They were seated across from each other, another machination of Hermione's, but neither looked at the other. The moon overhead shone brightly, starting to wane, but still close enough to full that it made Remus uncomfortable to look at. Ginny loved it. When she'd been younger, her bedroom window at the Burrow had always looked directly at the moon, and Ginny loved it no matter what phase it was in. She said nothing, however; she was in the presence of two werewolves, never mind that one of them was asleep, and she knew that her sentiment would not be reciprocated.

And there seemed to be a lot of that going on nowadays. She sighed and closed her eyes, tilting her head back to ease the tightness in her neck.

Remus stared at her through the dying flames, the moonlight casting a silver glow against the pale column of her neck. It smoothed out the pink of spending an entire day in the summer sun, leeched the color out of her hair until it was almost black. Despite the very cold shower, his dreams last night had still been haunted with her. Each time he turned away, the beast within presented some new detail, some new memory. He'd finally taken a potion just so he could get some sleep. He knew they would have to talk about…well, _it_, whatever _it_ was. He wasn't really sure, but he did know that it was not a conversation he was looking forward to.

Callum stirred slightly in his sleep, burrowing closer to Ginny, his small arms slipping around her neck. She looked down at him and smiled softly, kissing his forehead gently.

The loud croak of a bullfrog startled them both and they jumped. Glancing at each other, they laughed quietly, feeling rather silly. Ginny shivered slightly. "Are you cold?" Remus asked.

"A little," she admitted, pushing down her nausea at the queer sense of déjà vu. "Somewhat damp two piece, and all."

Coming around the fire, he sat next to her and draped his arm about her shoulders. Neither said anything, and neither moved. For the moment, it simply felt right.

The bullfrog croaked again, and Callum woke up, staring sleepily at the faces of his protectors, his friends. His eyes slid just past them, and a small smile tugged at his lips. "The moon's pretty tonight," he murmured. "Funny."


	8. Chapter 8:Midst of the Storm

**Disclaimer: sigh…**

_A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who's reviewing. It makes me so very happy. To those of you who have been reading and not reviewing, I'm very glad you're reading, but please review. You can imagine me making pathetic puppy eyes at you, if it'll make it easier. Even if it's just something simple, like, hey I read it, I'd really like that. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy and appreciated. J_

Chapter Eight: Midst of the Storm

Callum had yet to sleep through an entire night. It was now halfway into August and still he woke up every night, shaking and sweating, just short of screaming. That, at least, he'd managed to learn to control. He sat up in his bed now, staring around him, nostrils flaring at the wolf within him re-established his location. He was in his room, in his bed. He could smell the mostly dead embers smoking dully in the hearth, hear the music still playing from the small harp on his nightstand. The music hadn't helped for long, and he didn't know why.

What he did know, however, was that he didn't want to wake Remus. He knew the man was sleeping, and felt guilty over how rare an occurrence that had become since his arrival. But. He also didn't want to be alone. He wasn't entirely sure where that need had come from, that desperate fear of being alone. He had spent most of his childhood alone, for one reason or another; Heidi had usually been at school or with her friends, often his friends hadn't been able to come visit, his parents had had better things to do with their time, and they certainly weren't going to allow the house elves to play with him.

He slid out of bed and padded silently out of their chambers, listening carefully to make sure that Remus didn't stir. Remus had wolf senses, true, and had learned to use them very well during his life, but he was also tired, and Callum was coming to learn more and more about the demon inside. Safely out in the hall, he breathed a sigh of relief and headed towards the infirmary. Ginny had given him the password to her rooms a few weeks before, when she'd come back from a long study session with Madam Pomfrey to find him dozing outside her door. He knew she was usually up fairly late, though he didn't know why.

"Bedbug," he announced quietly, just in case she was asleep. The statue of the sphinx blinked lazily at him, then nudged the door with her tail, making it swing open. He tiptoed in, smiling at the beautiful music that surrounded him once he emerged from the doorway's silencing charm. Ginny sat in front of a dark piano pushed against one wall, her eyes half closed with pure, relaxed pleasure as her slender fingers moved over the keys.

The beast growled deep in his mind, but strangely, it seemed to be one of contentment, subsiding and leaving his mind almost blissfully clear of the darker, animal thoughts. He stood across the room, just listening, feeling the peace wrap around his very soul.

"Couldn't sleep?" Ginny asked, without opening her eyes or ceasing her playing.

"How do you always know when I'm here?" he complained, coming to sit next to her on the bench.

"I just do," she shrugged. She laughed at the indignant look on his face. "All right. Do you remember my twin brothers, Fred and George? The pranksters I've told you so many stories about?" When he nodded, she smiled. "You can't grow up in a house with those two and not learn to recognize when there's someone else in the room. It's called simple self-preservation."

He nodded again, and they sat in companionable silence until the song ended. "Why doesn't the music we play for me at night make me feel like that does?" he wondered.

"The music you play at night is made by magic," she answered easily. "It hasn't a soul, to it, no emotion, no passion, absolutely nothing to make it comforting rather than empty. Music needs that." She stretched her fingers and began another song, this one sad and haunting. It was punctuated by the shushing sweep of rain and the deep, booming rumble of thunder, occasionally shattered by a sharp crack of lightning.

He closed his eyes and leaned against her, letting the music take him where it would. He didn't think he would mind if it failed to bring him back. Deep within his mind, the wolf howled, but it was not a cry of control, or of fury. His instinct gave him the name: _pack song. _Wolves hunted and lived in packs, and the wolf within him, the pure animal caught in the perpendicular, was crying out for a pack. _Remus and Ginny are our pack_, he told it, never mind that Ginny wasn't a wolf. She was pack enough for him. He shivered when the song was over. "What's that one called?" he whispered.

She glanced down at him, her warm brown eyes unreadable. "Did you like it?" she asked.

"Very much. We both did."

She smiled at his inclusion of the beast; sometimes she wondered if that was the proper way to go about it, making a truce with the creature. It wasn't, after all, actually separate, no matter how much one might want it to be. "It's called _'Ah, My Love, the Moon'_," she told him quietly. His eyes widened as he stared at her. "It was written by a werewolf during the eighteenth century. Some people found it in his things when they stumbled across his body, but no one ever knew who he was."

Callum's gaze wandered over to the window, watching the white flashes streak across the dark sky. Before his first transformation, Remus had likened it to standing outside in the middle of a storm. Ginny's eyes followed his, but he was surprised to find her smiling.

"It's a gorgeous storm," she murmured.

"It's a storm. Storm's are dangerous."

"So is the sun if you get too much of it," she answered. She looked down at him thoughtfully. "Perhaps you've just never seen one the right way," she mused.

"What do you mean?"

"Come on," she said instead, sliding off the bench and taking his hand. "I'll show you."

Mystified, he let her lead him out of the rooms and through the silent castle, out to the main entrance of Hogwarts. She pushed open one of the doors and pulled him to stand immediately in front of her, keeping her hands on his shoulders. "Don't think," she leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Just be."

He took a deep breath. The wind blew all around them, tugging at his pajamas, his curls, wrapping around him before sliding away. The rain fell in billowing sheets before him, the wind casting some of the spray into his face, but the overhang of the doors protecting him from most of it. Gray waves rose and fell through the air, undulating before they hit the earth in splashes, forming puddles that steadily grew in size and depth. Now, so close to it, he could feel the thunder in his very bones, echoing in the stone beneath his bare feet. The lighting was so bright it hurt his eyes, so close he could feel the hairs on his arms raise. He knew instinctively he was safe, that Ginny would not have brought him out here if he could get hurt.

His nostrils flared and he could smell the scent of the rain, the tangy, slightly unpleasant smell of ozone. He could almost taste the crispness of the air when the lightning flashed through it. The wolf was feeding him as much information, as much pure sensation, as the boy, and he savored that harmony. For the first time since he had been bitten, he felt like he was in control, not because he had wrested it from the wolf, but because they had silently agreed that it lay somewhere between them. He felt Ginny's grip tighten slightly on his shoulder, and sniffed the air again. Someone was there, behind them, a scent he recognized and a presence he could identify without any thought. "Remus," he said, turning around to look.

With a wry grin, Remus came closer to the door, standing behind them both and glancing out at the weather. "I thought we'd agreed that you were going to let me know when you left."

"I didn't want to wake you up," he explained reasonably.

"But you didn't mind waking Ginny up?"

"It's hard to wake up someone who isn't asleep," she pointed out, and he looked directly at her, realizing the truth of it.

And quickly looked away. For some bizarre reason, both she and Hermione had worn their old school uniforms today, and it had made for some very uncomfortable thoughts. From the sour look on Severus' face at dinner, which he'd finally persuaded the boy to start attending, he gathered the Potions Master hadn't exactly been thrilled either. Standing behind Callum, her long red hair and pleated grey skirt whipped by the wind, she looked liked anything but a student, despite having only graduated two and a half months previous. "Why are you out here, of all places?" he asked, congratulating himself on breaking a silence without saying something inane.

"We're watching the storm," Callum replied, as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

"Watching the storm," Remus repeated. Well, so much for not sounding stupid. He opened his mouth, but his young charge shook his head.

"Don't think," he instructed, echoing Ginny's earlier words. "Just be."

Bemused, Remus glanced at Ginny, who had already turned back to her contemplation of nature's fury. He had never really been all that fond on storms. Nature held a great deal of powerful magic, much of it coming out in storms, and the primal energies tended to bring the wolf more to the foreground. He regarded Callum thoughtfully, not missing the expression of wonder and awe on the boy's face, wondering what was going on internally.

"You're thinking too much," Ginny murmured, not looking at him. "Just let it go."

"How?" he whispered back.

"Stop fighting him," she answered simply, and he knew what she meant. "Just let him breathe."

He was extremely reluctant, but he found Callum watching him expectantly, and he couldn't help but feel the need to try. Closing his eyes, Remus took a deep breath, hesitantly allowing _all_ of his senses to partake in it. For a moment, he was almost overwhelmed by the satisfaction the beast took in the storm. It was something that nature cowered from, but embraced. The human part of his mind only looked at the damage storms like this caused; houses were damaged, flooding occurred, fires could start from the lightning…people died in freak accidents, it was an inconvenience. He realized that the wolf knew better. The storm was necessary. It brought the rain, brought the spark of life and magic back into a parched area. It flooded out the lowlands, weeding out those who had placed or built their homes foolishly, keeping only those with the better survival instinct to pass it on to their young. The fires destroyed the build-up in forest floors, clearing the way for new, healthier life to grow. The wolf knew, and the wolf respected it.

He opened his eyes in wonder, staring out at the storm just beyond the overhang, and both Ginny and Callum smiled at him. "You see?" she breathed into his ear. "Nothing to be afraid of."

The scent of vanilla and cinnamon washing over him made him not so sure she was right in that.

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They stayed watching the storm for almost half an hour, and though Callum protested when Remus said it was time to go to bed, the truth was he was starting to feel a little tired. They walked together back to Remus' chambers, Callum in the middle holding on to both of their hands. They settled him into his bed and he soon fell asleep, a contented smile on his face, still hearing the rain just hitting the outside walls.

Ginny and Remus went out into the living room, and she toed off her Mary-Janes before curling up on the couch. Remus was having a hard time looking at her. Her white shirt was un-tucked and partially un-buttoned, the sleeves rolled up and the red and gold Gryffindor tie loose, but that only served to make the image a little more wrong. He knew, though, that he couldn't blame it entirely on the uniform. He'd been reacting to her this way since that kiss, which had been neither repeated nor addressed.

"Tea?" he offered.

"Yes, thank you."

He padded into the tiny, mostly useless kitchen and made them some tea, taking the time to pour it mugs (he hated the traditional delicate cups, they reminded him far too much of Divination) before having to go out and face her again. She accepted the mug from him with a murmured thank you and wrapped her hands around it to warm them, blowing gently on the hot liquid.

"You look like hell," she commented abruptly.

He blinked owlishly. "Beg pardon?"

"I'm serious, Remus, you need to get some sleep. Why don't you ever try and rest during the day?"

"I don't want Callum to get bored, or feel guilty," he replied.

"He already feels guilty, and if you're truly worried about him being bored, send him to me," she answered, mildly amused. "He told me that he had wanted to be a healer; I can start teaching him some of the simple things. Merlin knows, it would be helpful review; my first level examination is coming up at the end of the month."

"You're sure you don't mind?" he asked hesitantly, well aware of how wonderful it would be to just sleep.

"I wouldn't have offered if I minded." She calmly took a sip from her tea. They sat in an only slightly awkward silence, each lost in a different world. Ginny set her mug down on the floor and leaned her head back against the couch, closing her eyes. She willed all the tension from her body and just listened to the storm, occasionally punctuated by the dancing crackle of the fire that absorbed Remus' attention. Her hands cradled loosely in her lap, she gradually drifted off.

Remus smiled and leaned back further in his chair, taking advantage of the opportunity to watch her. He had expected her to look younger when she slept, but she didn't. The seeming openness that lit up her features while awake was gone, replaced with a pained wariness that tugged at his heart. Peaceful, but resigned. He wondered where that resignation came from, if it had come from Tom Riddle's possession of her or simply come as a natural result of being so heavily involved in a war. She had been one of the best D.A. members, taking over Harry's position as leader when he'd graduated, although Voldemort was gone. It had always bemused him a little to see the mischievous, ebullient Ginny Weasley training them so fiercely.

Remembering his own lesson of the night, he took a deep breath and allowed the wolf to come slightly forward, to assess the sleeping girl with its own senses. Her smell was already imprinted in his brain, in his soul, but he was still surprised at all the things the wolf noticed. Her fingers twitched while she slept, almost seeming to form something in the empty air. Her breathing was deep and even, but every now and then, it hitched a little, as if she had to remind herself not to let herself go completely. He was still looking at her with the wolf's eyes when he saw her start trembling.

Concerned, he moved over to sit next to her on the couch, watching closely. He didn't think she was cold, but perhaps…he gently touched her hands and jerked back; they were like ice.

"No," she whispered deep in her throat, not allowing the word to emerge fully formed. Her eyes squeezed tighter shut, and she turned her face deeper into the old, soft leather of the couch.

"Ginny?" he asked cautiously. "Are you all right?"

With a strangled gasp, she pitched forward and would have fallen off the couch had Remus not caught her. She stared around her with panicked eyes, closing them against the unfamiliar surroundings, and suddenly became aware of arms around her. She took one deep breath, then another, forcing her breathing to calm, and realized who it was. Ginny listened to his breathing, used that to pull her out of the grips of the dream, and when she was still again, she opened her eyes.

He watched the entire process, a little awed by her control. It was the same thing he had learned to do, to repossess yourself after waking up, but it had taken him years. _It took her years, too, probably_, he realized. They'd started her first year at Hogwarts. He wondered how she had ever survived in the dormitory like that. "Are you all right?" he asked quietly, and she nodded.

"I will be," she answered breathily. "Just give me a moment."

"Was it Riddle?" The wolf snarled in the back of his mind.

"Isn't it always?" she replied, lips quirking in a wry smile. She picked up her cold tea and performed a warming charm on it, settling back into position on the couch. "Thank you for catching me."

He nodded and debated about returning to the armchair. In the end, he simply stayed where he was. "Are they always that bad?"

"That bad?" she repeated, genuinely surprised. "That was hardly anything, really, not to sound like I'm bragging. I woke up too soon."

His hazel eyes widened and he openly stared at her. "How are you so alive during the day?" he whispered.

"You are, too," she pointed out. "Well, usually, anyway."

"I'm twice your age and have been hiding the effects of my lycanthropy since I was six."

"And I've been hiding things from my brothers since I was old enough to walk," she shrugged. "It's what you're trying to teach Callum, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, in a way, but-"

"But he'll never exactly be the cheerful little Hufflepuff," she finished for him, and they both grinned at the thought. "He'll learn, though," she added. "He's starting to, at any rate."

"When did you get so wise," he laughed, and she smiled.

"Can I blame it on hanging out too much with Hermione over the years?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. That brought another chuckle from him and she contentedly sipped her tea. They trailed off into silence, but it wasn't as heavy this time. Ginny set her mug down again and stretched out, slipping on her shoes. "I should get to bed," she explained when he looked questioningly at her. "Thank you for the tea."

"Anytime, you know that." He stood and walked her to the door.

"Good night, Remus."

"Good night, Ginny."

She kissed his cheek, and he watched her until she disappeared around a dark corner, still able to hear her quiet footsteps ringing in the stillness. "Dream sweet," he whispered.


	9. Chapter 9: Hallowed Halls

**Disclaimer: Are we really still in question about this?**

_A/N: I hope you all appreciate this chapter; it was one o'clock in the morning, and I knew I was going to have to be in at work at seven in the morning for our district manager's visit, but it wouldn't let me go to sleep without getting it out first. So, with that in mind, you know that little button down at the bottom of the page that says 'submit review'. People who click on that little button and follow through will make me very very happy, and convince me that not getting the sleep was worth it._

Chapter Nine: Hallowed Halls

Callum was distinctly unprepared for school to start. He had grown quite used to the castle being quiet, the numbers of teachers present fluctuating as they attended to visiting their families or friends, running necessary errands, all the things that teachers did when they had no students to give them headaches. He sat rigidly at one end of the High Table between Ginny and Hermione, who had shocked everyone by staying to apprentice towards a Potions Mastery rather than go back to university, staring at the mass of noisy, raucous students. Some of the more observant ones stared back.

Ginny squeezed his hand gently. "It's all right," she whispered. "It's not always this crazy."

"No, just close to it," Hermione snorted, watching two students from different houses scream at each other across the separating tables.

Remus, sitting as close to them as he could, heard Hermione's comment and smiled. "It's all right, Callum. You'll get used to it."

"What if I don't want to get used to it?" he muttered.

Ginny chuckled lowly. "What, you want to be a hermit?"

"What's a hermit?"

"It's someone who stays away from everyone else and lives completely on his own."

He mulled over that. "So only boys can be hermits? You said 'he'."

She clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a giggle. "Women who go that route usually have cats. Lots and lots of cats."

Thinking of the slightly batty Arabella Figgs, Hermione laughed.

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When the Sorting Feast was over, Callum was more than happy to flee with Ginny and Hermione to the infirmary. Ginny had to be on duty, as Madam Pomfrey knew from experience that at the very least there would be some stomachaches from overeating at the feast. In reality, though, with the sudden influx of Slytherins and Gryffindors into a confined space, there were sure to be some hex victims in there, as well. Ginny sat down at her small desk in the corner of the wing, with Callum and Hermione perched on the nearest bed.

"Did you see the look on that one boy's face when the Hat started to sing?" Hermione asked gleefully. "I swear I knew he was going to be in Hufflepuff."

"He looked petrified, of course he was going to be in Hufflepuff."

Madam Pomfrey bustled over to them. That seemed to be her normal state of movement. She didn't walk, she bustled, her stiff skirts rustling with the motion. She checked the watch hanging in an apron pocket. "It's now ten minutes before curfew, so we should be getting the first batch in…three…two…one…"

The four shared a moment of silence, and nothing happened. A second later, the door at the end of the infirmary swung open and two new Ravenclaws entered, looking a little green around the gills. They stifled their laughter, and Ginny and Poppy dutifully went to take care of them, giving them potions to settle their stomachs and sternly warning them not to eat so much in the future.

"It should be another fifteen minutes or so until the fights start coming in," Poppy told the girls and Callum. "They generally don't appear until just after curfew."

"At least Harry and Ron had the decency to wait until classes had actually started," Hermione declared with a sniff.

"This coming from the girl who spent several weeks in here because she turned herself partway into a cat her second year." Hermione grabbed the pillow off the bed and hurled it at Ginny, who caught it easily. "Just saying," she shrugged.

"It was Christmas time," the bushy-haired girl retorted. "We'd gone through a whole term by then."

"You four were in here almost more than the rest of the school combined," Poppy told them drily.

"Well, of course," Ginny replied with wide, innocent eyes. "We four loved you more than the rest of the school combined."

Poppy smiled and fondly smoothed the girl's red hair. "Flatterer," she accused with a twinkle in her blue eyes. "I'm going to go in my office for right now, dears; just let me know when the ruffians start arriving."

Hermione watched her go, then pulled a deck of cards out of her robes. "Anybody up for a game of SlapJack?" she offered.

"Depends," Callum answered. "Are they wizarding cards or muggle cards?"

Well, it's just the deck Ron gave me, why?" she asked with a confused frown.

"Hermione, you don't want to play SlapJack with wizarding cards," Ginny told her calmly.

"Why not?"

"Because they have a tendency to slap back."

Hermione flinched and glared at the cards in her hand. "It figures. No wizarding games are truly safe anyway."

"How about Go Fish," the other girl suggested. "That's harmless."

Hermione and Callum agreed, so Ginny pulled her chair up to the bedside and they commenced play. Callum went through his hand, putting down his pairs, and looked up at Ginny. "Who goes first?"

"In the Weasely household, it's the youngest, because with so many of us that was the only way I got to play," she laughed. "So go ahead, Callum."

"Hermione, do you have a four?"

"Go fish."

The four in Callum's hand snaked out a long, thin line, latching onto one of the cards in the middle and dragging it back to him.

"Hermione, do you have a queen?" Ginny asked.

"Why is everyone picking on me?" she groused, handing over the card in question.

"Callum," Ginny began, blatantly ignoring the whine. "Do you have a nine?"

"Go fish."

Her card shot out a line and brought another one snaking back to it.

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Remus did one last patrol half an hour after curfew, then decided it was time to swing by the infirmary to pick up Callum. He knew Ginny would see the boy safely back to his quarters when it was time, but he had found himself getting very protective of Callum. The mass of people had visibly unnerved him, and that bothered the man.

He stepped silently into the infirmary, not missing the two second years, one wearing a red and gold tie, the other green and silver, sleeping in the beds with little antennae waving from their foreheads. Some things never changed. His hazel eyes cast about the room and fell on Ginny and Hermione sitting closely together on one of the narrow beds, their heads touching as they talked, and occasionally giggled, about something. Callum was sleeping, his head in Ginny's lap, one of his hands curled around a lock of her hair like an infant's. Smiling, he decided to sneak up on the two girls.

"God, Mione, that's disgusting," Ginny whispered, but his keen ears heard every word.

"Hey! I didn't say that about-"

"Well, yes, but he's-"

"And just how is-"

"But he's-"

"And just because-"

"All right, I'm-"

"Just please don't-"

"Do you really think I'm that-"

"Am I supposed to-"

"Some friend you-"

"I resent-"

"Could you imagine-"

"I hope they never-"

"Or if they ever-"

"We'd be so-"

"Dead," Ginny agreed, and they both snickered into their hands.

"I'm sorry, but do either of you actually know what the other said?" Remus asked bemusedly.

Two pairs of brown eyes turned to look at him, and Ginny's lips quirked wryly. "If we hadn't known what the other was saying, we would have said it," she answered reasonably.

He regarded both of them queerly, then shook his head in resignation. "Being male, I'm not going to understand this, am I?"

They traded glances, but this time, it was Hermione who smiled. "Probably not, no."

"How is he? He queried, moving to perch on the edge of the nearly-full desk.

"Sleeping peacefully," Ginny replied, smoothing Callum's auburn curls away from his pale face. "He told me his nightmares have been doing better recently."

"Ever since the storm."

Hermione looked to the other girl for enlightenment, but Ginny merely nodded, her gaze distant.

She shook her head a moment later and stared down at her hands. "I meant to ask you, do you mind if I start kidnapping Callum during the days? I didn't think he'd want to be stuck in your chambers all day while you teach, and it probably wouldn't be the brightest idea in the world to have him wandering the halls with the students."

"Oh?" He asked mildly, having already been wondering about that same problem.

"Students are mean, and they should be squished," she retorted, seeing through his nonchalance. "However, although most of the professors are too nice to give them the squishing they so richly deserve, and require, they feel like they can in turn squish anything smaller than them. I don't want Callum squished."

"And you're training to be a school healer why?" he grinned at her.

"Because I'll get them after they've _been_ squished," she answered matter-of-factly, and the man just laughed. "It's very satisfying, to see them realize that they've been squished."

"You have an unwholesome fascination with that word," Hermione grumbled, her expression turning slightly sickly. "I'm off to bed; Severus wants me sitting in on the classes. He says it will give me an appreciation of why most Potions Masters don't take students."

"That sounds like Severus," Remus agreed dryly. "Good night, Hermione."

"Night, Mione."

"Night."

They watched her leave the infirmary, and as soon as the doors shut, Ginny started giggling helplessly.

Remus watched her, strangely content to have no idea what was going on. "What was with all the talk of squishing?" he asked her finally.

"Snape is determined to find something that will gross her out," she explained, still laughing. Her face started turning red from the exertion and lack of breath. "He has her handling the most disgusting ingredients imaginable, and she refuses to give him the satisfaction of knowing that it's getting to her. She spent the twenty minutes before dinner tossing up her toenails in the girls' loo! I just couldn't help myself."

"What were you two talking about when I came in?"

"Oh, a little of this, and a little of that," she shrugged, meeting his eyes and smiling.

"Yes, but a little of what? The part I did catch was that you'd be dead," he prompted, but she merely shook her head.

"No dice, Remus. That was between me and Mione." She arched an eyebrow at him when he would have protested. "How old are you?" she reminded, and he grimaced.

"Cheap shot."

"I take them where I can," she admitted graciously.

Callum shifted in his sleep, his nostrils flaring as he absorbed Remus' scent. "Oh, good," he murmured. "The whole pack's here." He snuggled closer in to Ginny and feel deeper into sleep.

"The pack?" Remus repeated, blood running cold through his veins.

Ginny nodded. "I think he and his wolf have come to a truce, of sorts. Callum doesn't push him out, and he doesn't try to take control away from the full moon. It seems to have been working fairly well these past two weeks."

"A truce."

"He's been raised being told that werewolves are evil, but he obviously knows your not evil. Maybe it occurred to him that not everything he's always been told has been true."

"Ginny, the wolf _is_ evil," he told her flatly.

"Remus, the wolf is _you_." He flinched back violently, almost falling off the desk, and she fixed her eyes on her hands, refusing to look at him as she continued. "We always talk about it like it's a separate being, but it's not really, and you know that. Everyone has two voices in their brains; the muggles even portray them as little angels and devils sitting on their shoulders. Your second voice is just quite a bit darker."

"There's more to it than that," he growled.

"Of course there is. But there always is. The wolf is doing what is in its nature to do, and yes, the werewolf is too. You have three sets of instincts responding to the same situation. But think on this, Remus: how did the first werewolf come to be?"

He stared at her uncomprehendingly. "What are you talking about?"

"One of the benefits of hanging out with Hermione," she returned lightly. She traced her right index finger over the lines of her left palm, feeling the callous from years of gripping broomsticks and stir sticks and quills. "You have practically an entire encyclopedia sitting right next to you." She took a deep breath and finally looked at him. "The first werewolf was actually a muggle," she said quietly. "He was taken captive by a sick, twisted wizard who wanted to try and breed the wolf with the human. Animagi were much more common back then, but for some reason, he wanted to do it that way, so he stole the wolf's soul and forced it into the muggle's body. What chance did a werewolf _ever_ have?

"You always act like those three days are such hell, and I'll grant you, they are, but what about the wolf? Have you ever thought that maybe he becomes so violent because those three days each month are the only freedom he ever has? That he tries so desperately to get out because his instincts scream with open spaces and movement, of the thrill of the hunt, and the joy of pack song?

"Sirius nearly went crazy cooped up at Grimmauld Place-"

"This is not about Sirius," he interrupted fiercely, still aching from the loss three years before. "Sirius was not a wolf."

"No, Sirius was a dog, a very large dog, which is closely related to the wolf and shares many of the same instincts: she retorted evenly. "A hell of a lot added up to make that night in the Department of Mysteries what it was, and that was part of it. He needed that freedom, both as a man and an animal. You seem to have forgotten what your friends taught you about the Animagus, Remus. Just like with the werewolf, you pick up the habits and instincts of the form you share. I mean, come on, haven't you ever heard Hermione purr when she's reading? Or seen the way McGonagall smiles for no good reason while standing in a sunbeam? I know you don't want to hear this, but Sirius did not escape from Azkaban with all of his sanity intact, and with both the dog and the man clamoring for space and freedom, it was just too much.

"I don't want to see the day when the wolf part of you decides that it's 'simply too much'. You have been fighting yourself day and night for almost your entire life. You were the peacemaker of the Marauders, Remus; why haven't you ever thought of making peace?"

She made sense, that was the worst part of it. He wanted to retreat into the sanctimoniousness of age and experience, look down at her and tell her that she was just a child, that she knew nothing. But. Remus couldn't look at her as a child, anymore, because of the tempest of confusion raging within him, and that meant that he couldn't dismiss her words as childish. Especially since he knew that they were anything but. Werewolves were _evil_, his mind insisted, and the demon within whined piteously. It wasn't a sound he could remember hearing very often.

It bothered him that Ginny understood so much. If he hadn't known better, he would almost have sworn she had lycanthropy herself. She seemed moon-struck at times, seeing the animal within the man. That crazy part of his brain wondered if she could also see the man within the animal.

"It's a lot to think about," she murmured, "and you have classes to teach in the morning. Not to mention, Callum should probably be sleeping in a bed."

"You're right," he replied absently, scooping the boy up in his arms and walking quickly towards the doors. Her soft voice stopped him in the entrance.

"Remus?"

"Yes?" he asked neutrally.

"Please don't ignore me," she pleaded, somehow maintaining a quiet dignity. "Promise me you'll think about what I said."

Silence stretched between them, and he honestly considered telling her no, just to give her some of the pain tearing at his thoughts each time she spoke. But no; that was something Sirius would have done, maybe even James in his younger years. It was not in Remus Lupin to do that, and his pain only increased at the image of the reproach that would have come into her warm amber eyes. "I promise," he sighed finally, and she nodded unsmilingly.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Callum crept farther into the dungeons, every sense alert and blazing, praying that he wouldn't be seen by anyone. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed to be down there, he just didn't want to have to run and hide from any of the students. None of them knew why he was there, but that didn't mean that they were nice. Hermione had promised to let him watch her make a sleeping draught, and he'd timed it to be during a class period.

Hermione met him at the door to her chambers and led him through into Professor Snape's private lab, the use of which he'd offered his apprentice. She made him promise not to touch anything, and he even sat on his hands just in case the temptation grew too strong. It was fascinating to watch, and even without experience, he could tell that Hermione was very skilled, her movements and measurements even and precise.

When it was done, she offered to walk him back up to the infirmary, but he declined. Without anyone with him, he could run, something he was rather fond of doing.

Unfortunately, he hadn't realized how much time had passed in the dungeon. The wolf snarled a warning too late, and he fell to the ground with a stinging pain in his back. Trying to scramble to his feet, he felt a foot step firmly on his back.

"Well, well, well, what have we here," a voice drawled insultingly. "I do believe that it's the High Table pet. What are you doing all on your own down here?"

Pain bloomed in his back from the whispered hex, and the wolf howled within his mind, begging to be allowed out.

"STUPEFY!"

Vaguely aware that the pain had stopped, Callum passed mercifully into unconsciousness.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You're here to heal the students, Miss Weasley, not hex them."

"And the students are here to learn, Professor Snape, not torture a helpless child."

"Said child is also a werewolf, hardly harmless-

"And he's not exactly able to let that out in the corridor, now is he?"

Callum awoke slowly, trying to make sense of the words being said over him. He realized that Ginny was there, her vanilla and cinnamon scent soothing him as it always did. He could hear the billow of robes, a sound he associated almost exclusively with the thoroughly terrifying and usually cruel Potions Master. It also occurred to him that Ginny was arguing with the man, and that thought alone was enough to bring him to full alertness.

"Awake now, Callum?" Ginny asked quietly, although he hadn't yet opened his eyes.

He did so now, and the world swam a little bit before coming into sharper focus, and he fixed his gaze firmly on her face. "What happened?"

"You were attacked by a student," she answered, much more calm than she had been only a heartbeat before. "Professor Snape saved you."

"Why would he do that? He hates werewolves." He cringed at the words that, for once, came out without thought.

"I dislike Lupin," the man corrected in his dark, silky voice. "I have little care one way or the other about the species in general as long as they are kept on appropriate leashes. Besides, you are a child, and as a charge of Hogwarts am under my protection."

"I thank you, then." He blinked slowly, his mind still catching up to the events. "If you saved me, then who did Ginny hex?" To his utter astonishment, the girl blushed and looked away sheepishly.

"The boy woke before you," Snape replied smoothly. "He made a comment which seemed to cause Miss Weasley offense."

"Ginny!" Madam Pomfrey called. "A first-year got bit by the Venomous Tentacula, I'll need your help, dear."

"All right," she replied loudly. She looked back down at Callum, her cool hand lightly touching his cheek. "I'll be back in a bit, Callum. Rest." She walked quickly away, leaving him with the Potions Master. He fidgeted under the man's intense scrutiny.

"You're doing well with this," Snape said suddenly, shocking the boy. "And not just for your age. I congratulate you." Inclining his head slightly, he gracefully swept away, leaving the boy heartily confused. From everything he'd heard, Snape never complimented _anyone_, especially not someone he considered to be a nuisance. He shook his head and settled deeper into the blanket, staring up at the plain ceiling of the hospital wing.

Callum knew that he should have had Hermione walk him back; they'd all made him promise not to go about on his own. He sighed; he would have to make sure that he got that in right away when Remus found out, or his guardian's well-meaning lecture would seem interminable.

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The weekend came quickly, for which Callum was supremely grateful, and after waking up early as was his habit, he made the decision to have a bit of a lie-in. He was vaguely aware that he was forgetting something important, but he didn't think he'd remember it any sooner for being awake. That was what he told himself, anyway.

Remus smiled slightly at the blonde girl pacing in his living room. "Miss Sleipak, you could always wake him up," he suggested delicately.

"No," she sighed, stifling her impatience. "It's his birthday, I should let him sleep."

A quiet knock on the door drew Remus to his feet, and he opened it to admit Ginny and Hermione. Both girls nodded at Heidi, wrapped gifts held in their hands.

"I'm guessing he's not awake yet, then," Hermione surmised.

"Brilliant observation, Granger."

Ginny merely smiled and winked at Remus; he nodded, holding back a chuckle. Slytherin and Gryffindor, some things _never_ changed.

"Ssh," he ordered suddenly, hearing movement in the second bedroom. "He's awake"

Soft footsteps came closer and the door to the bedroom opened, a sleepy-eyed, tousle-headed boy emerging. He stopped short, staring at them in confusion. "Heidi?" he asked. "What's going on?"

"Callum Raoul Sleipak, are you honestly trying to tell me you forgot your birthday?" the former student demanded with some asperity.

"Oh!" His eyes widened, and he was suddenly very much awake. "It is, isn't it?"

Remus laughed and gave the boy a one-armed hug. "Happy birthday, Callum."

Being a little boy, Callum's mind immediately turned to the most important thing about a birthday, seeing the packages sitting in a neat pyramid on the coffee table. "I have presents?"

A very short time later, Callum sat with a glowing smile amidst a pile of discarded paper and ribbon, and of course, his presents. Hermione had given him a junior potions kit, safely excluding any volatile ingredients, so he could begin to do them on his own. Ginny had given him a set of wooden pan pipes, adding in a note that said the lesson book was still on its way. Remus, rather true to form, had given him a large supply of Honeyduke's best chocolate. The best gift, though, was from his sister.

She'd gotten him a book on astronomy, which included a great deal about the moon, but it seemed she wasn't finished yet. When every other present had been opened, she pulled an envelope out of the back pocket of her jeans and handed it to him.

Mystified, he opened it and was shocked to find his mother's elegant hadnwriting.

_"Dear Callum,_

_I can't expect you to be happy with me, nor to forgive me, but I'd never before realized how much life you brought into this house. I've missed you greatly. You come into my mind at the oddest times, and each night, I find myself almost snapping at the house elves to not forget the third setting. Your father, or course, will suffer no word of you to be said, but when you simply disappeared, I knew that your sister must have done something._

_I would throw away all caution and defy your father to bring you home if I could, but Heidi tells me that you are being very well cared for and that you have a…similar companion. With that in mind, I feel it best that you remain where you are, with people who can understand what you're going through and help you with it. _

_I am very sorry, Callum, my dear son, and I want you to know, though you certainly should not get your hopes up, that I am going to begin a very careful, very subtle campaign against your father, one that I am determined to win. When that victory occurs, we will come to see you._

_I know I may not always express it, but never forget, my son, that I love you._

_Happy Birthday."_

Callum looked up from the letter, tears stinging his eyes, to stare at his sister, who nodded.

"She asked me last night in the library," she verified. "When I was about to leave this morning, she asked me to give this to you."

The newly nine year old beamed and tightly embraced his sister, his mind howling with utter delight. He took heed of his mother's caution, and didn't put too much promise on the prospect, but the idea of being able to say his last name again filled him with such joy that it was hard not to hope.


	10. Chapter 10: One Step Forward

**Disclaimer: If it were mine, I'd be laughing at all of us.**

_A/N: Please review? Please? I'll get down on my knees and beg if that's what you really want, but please review?_

_Chapter Ten: One Step Forward_

Hermione Granger was a smart girl. Impassioned, certainly, and usually lacking in subtlety, but undeniably brilliant. She had the amazing ability to analyze a problem or situation from every conceivable angle and follow each theory through to its likely conclusion, keeping in mind all possible variables and obstacles. It was for this purpose that Severus Snape had worked as hard as he had on convincing her to be his apprentice. He had had to swallow a great deal of pride in order to do so, and had even had to do the completely unthinkable: apologize. But, he had done it, and when almost three straight months of handling the most disgusting potions ingredients known to man hadn't scared her off track, he finally pulled her into his research. It was, after all, for this that he had brought her back to the school.

Said girl sat perched on a stool in his private workshop, absently worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she pored over his notes. His crabbed, spiky handwriting didn't make the task any easier, yet she constantly took down her own thoughts and questions as she read, her brow furrowed in thought. "What kind of cauldron were you planning on brewing this in?" she asked distractedly, almost more to herself than to him.

"Either pewter or glass," he answered in his low, silky voice. "Glass is neutral, and pewter almost entirely nonreactive."

She nodded and pushed a stray curl back into her haphazard braid, continuing to read. Even after she had gone through the entire notebook three times, she stared at it, her eyes flicking back and forth through empty air, following the speed of her thoughts. Her quill tapped slowly on the edge of an extra sheet of parchment she had laid beside her notes, and he could see a steadily growing black pool of ink. Suddenly the extra sheet made sense. She bit her lip again, regarding him apprehensively out of the corner of her eyes.

"I assure you, Miss…Hermione," he grudgingly corrected himself when she raised her eyebrows at him. "Regardless of rumors, I truly do not bite."

"You'll think it's stupid," she warned.

"Hermione," he growled.

"All right," she conceded, pushing the unruly curl back behind her ear again. "Have you ever tried using any women's herbs in the potion?"

"Women's herbs?" he repeated carefully, just to make certain he had heard her correctly.

"Well, yes, sir. You see," she continued, going into what Harry and Ron had always called her 'teacher mode'. "Throughout history, menstruation has been connected with the changing phase of the moon, because of it's similar cycles. As the visible moon waxes and wanes, so too does the lining of the uterine wall-"

"I am aware of the theory, Miss Granger," he interrupted hastily. "There is no need to go into detail."

Hermione blushed with good grace, but a part of her was also amused that her snaky potions professor was embarrassed. And if he tried to accuse her of being squeamish again…well, she had learned more from him than just how to make potions, and she could always use that little piece of information to make him squirm. "Right. Well. A lot of the herbs used to soothe irregularities or difficulties with menstruation are also tied to the moon cycle; some can only be picked at certain points in the cycle for their magical potencies to be realized."

"And your point is?" he drawled.

"My point is, perhaps finding one of the women's herbs will increase the potion's link to the moon and thus help weaken the hold of the werewolf," she explained, refusing to rise to the bait.

"How would strengthening the moon link weaken the werewolf?" he asked, feeling obligated to point out the obvious inconsistency.

"It's not so much the strengthening bit we're after," she admitted, frowning slightly. "However, the way most of these herbs work is by gentling the influence of the moon on the woman's body, almost absorbing the moon's latent magic, as it were. It provides a kind of shield between the person and the moon. Not a terrifically grand one, but it's there nonetheless."

"And which one would be your first trial?" he queried, his agile mind already sorting through what he knew, what she had told him, finding possibilities, problems.

"Helonius," came the prompt reply. "Also known as Fairy Wand, it has the most latent magic potential and blooms brightest under the full moon, which is, after all, the phase in question."

"Five points to Gryffindor for swallowing the textbook," he muttered under his breath, more out of habit than anything else.

"And five points from Slytherin for being so damn snarky," she shot back, and he was stunned. Delightfully so, but stunned nonetheless.

"What else has your know-it-all brain come up with?" he asked instead, letting it go without comment.

"Funny, I thought my know-it-all brain was precisely the reason I was here."

"Miss Granger…"

"Your notes on the properties of silver were interesting," she sighed. "And it's Hermione. Silver bullets will hurt a werewolf, but a silver dagger can poison him severely, even kill him if it remains in his system long enough." Her eyes clouded briefly, remembering the nearly four months it had taken Remus to heal from the damage caused by Pettigrew's silver hand. "But, what I have to wonder is, what about quicksilver? It's highly toxic, I know, but if we could find something to negate the toxicity of the mercury without affecting the properties and quality of the base silver, we'd have a much purer substance. I don't know what we could put it with, but it's possible, with the right combinations, that the purer silver would wound the werewolf within, while the other properties could maintain the human. Perhaps harpy's tears, they're well known for near immediate antidotal qualities with most poisons, for all that they're fiendishly hard to come by. It also cancels out mercury in most proportions."

He stared at her, following the trail through, and he nodded slowly. "It's a possibility," he allowed finally. "I have a contact who may be able to help us secure some harpy's tears for a trial."

"A contact for harpy's tears?" she echoed. "Damn useful contact."

"It comes with being a highly respected Potions Master, and when did you start swearing so much?"

"I suppose it comes from Ron rubbing off on me, and we agreed it was Hermione," she shrugged.

"As you wish," he gave in, none too gracefully.

"You're the one who wanted to go by first names," she reminded him, with a smirk rivaling his own. "I didn't want to, but no, you insisted."

"And yet, I have not once heard you utter my name," he countered, and she blushed.

"Of course you haven't," she returned gamely. "I haven't said it around you yet."

"But you have said it."

"Around select others, yes. It takes some getting used to."

"Which select others?" he demanded, a bad feeling settling into the pit of his stomach.

"Not Harry or Ron, if that's what's scaring you," she answered with clear amusement. At his dark scowl, she burst out laughing.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"…so we're going to try the harpy's tears with the quicksilver and the helonius," Hermione finished, after giving Ginny the highlights of the discussion.

At the High Table, Ginny picked thoughtfully at her food, Callum having decided to eat with Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. She was a fair hand at potions herself, a skill which put her in good standing in her chosen profession, and Hermione had found that she usually had insightful things to offer as well. "What about virgin's blood?" she asked pensively. "It's been known to have profound healing powers, especially if it's a first bleed; you've read how unicorns flock to them. Werewolves can't stand to be around unicorns, they're too light, so the essence of something that attracts unicorns could…"

"Could repel werewolves," Hermione finished, tugging on the same disobedient curl. "And it would react well with the helonius, give it a much firmer foundation for the moon link."

"Not to mention that the iron in the blood would help draw some of the mercury out of the quicksilver."

"It could be hard to come by, though," Hermione noted, "especially with behaviour the way it is these days."

Ginny snorted indelicately, causing both Remus and Severus to look over at them. The four were clustered at one end of the table, both of the men listening with less than half an ear. Severus, of course, had heard most of it before, and knew that Hermione would tell him of anything interesting relevant to the research; he saw no need to listen into what could potentially be nothing but girlish babble. Remus, potions never his specialty, had been over his head with the first few sentences, and he contented himself with eating. Ginny turned slightly pink at the inquisitive looks and sipped from her goblet.

"Well?" Hermione asked, eyebrows raising.

"Madam Pomfrey keeps a supply in the infirmary that she gathers as such situations arise," the redhead replied with great aplomb. "I'm sure that if you ask her, she will be more than happy to provide you with some. Besides," she added, a mischievous gleam to her eyes. "It may not be first, but you could always provide it."

Hermione flushed crimson; they both knew perfectly well she could do no such thing. Neither could Ginny, for that matter, but that wasn't much the point. Now all she had to do was pray that Severus didn't bring it up later. Or even worse, now.

"Can you indeed, Miss Granger?" he asked smoothly.

_Now would not be a good time to correct him on the name, she decided, and she kicked Ginny under the table. Hard. The younger girl grinned back at her, completely unfazed. "I honestly don't see how that's any of your business, sir," she answered evasively._

"Ah, but Miss Granger, it is very important for me to be aware of such matters," he disagreed, and she wished, not for the first time, that he didn't have such a beautiful voice. It made the horrible things he was saying that much more insulting. "What if I should need my apprentice to gather some unicorn hair for me?"

"Then your apprentice would politely tell you to go get it yourself."

Remus nearly choked on his cider at the answering look on his colleague's face. _Good for you, Hermione_, he cheered inwardly. Ginny caught his eye, her hand clapped firmly over her mouth to stifle the giggles that were gradually fighting their way around the barrier. The man thought it did his surly former classmate good to finally get as good as he gave. Well, not quite, he admitted ruefully. Hermione didn't have nearly as many years of practice, and she still had that automatic respect for professors ingrained in her. However, he had every hope that with a bit of time, she could succeed brilliantly at discomfiting Snape on a regular basis. Remus looked forwards greatly to the day.

"Trouble's brewing," Hermione noted suddenly, pointing to the doors of the Great Hall. A pack of sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins had come in at nearly the same time, and tension was strong.

"Slytherin throws the first insult, Gryffindor the first punch, Slytherin the first hex," Ginny commented casually.

"How much?"

"Five galleons?"

"Sounds good." The girls shook on it absently, much to the amazement of their former professors, and leaned forward to watch the entertainment with keen interest.

"And what's your bet on, Hermione?" Remus asked dryly.

"Slytherin, Gryffindor, Gryffindor," she answered matter-of-factly. "It's a very public altercation, no Slytherin would do something to let themselves be caught in such a way. Insults can't be easily proven, even with witnesses, but hexes can. Only a Gryffindor would be that rash."

"Yes, but the grace and subtlety of Slytherin House is fading," Ginny reminded her. "Compare the Amazing Bouncing Ferret to the Pigment Challenged Creep, for example. Draco was only a pale shadow of his father, without the subtlety, charm, and charisma that every truly gifted Slytherin should have."

Remus and Severus exchanged queer looks. While the story of Draco being turned into a bouncing white ferret in his fourth year was now the stuff of Hogwarts legend, neither had ever heard the aristocratic, ultra-elegant Lucius referred to in such a manner. _Pigment Challenged Creep_, Severus mouthed to himself. He liked it, and he had absolutely no problem in speaking ill of the dead. _Pigment Challenged Creep_.

The fight commenced, a tall Gryffindor boy sending a thin Slytherin boy flying several feet back with a fist to the face, and a shrieking girl in a silver and green tie cast a Jelly Legs Jinx. Sighing, Hermione dug into an inner pocket of her robes and pulled out the money, laying it in Ginny's outstretched hand. "As usual," she grumbled.

"You're too nice to other Houses, Mione," Ginny explained, tucking the gold coins into the pocket of her jean skirt. "While you read your own fairly well, you're still too idealistic about the others."

"Counting on a Slytherin to slither out of trouble is giving them too much credit?"

"No, counting on a Slytherin to have the capacity to slither out of trouble is giving them too much credit," she corrected. "Double or nothing?"

"On what?"

"McGonagall gives the Gryffindors two more detentions and takes away twenty more points than she does the Slytherins."

"No way," Hermione scoffed. "Not with the Slytherins using the first magic. Besides, she may be strict, but she's not going to be harsher on her own house. You're on." A few moments later, she was grumbling and reaching down into her robes for more galleons.

"How do you do it, Ginny?" Remus asked, laughing.

"Easy; one of the Gryffindor girls kicked one of the Slytherin boys where no boy should ever be kicked, except in extreme measures. That earns the extra punishments."

Hermione ruefully joined in, and even Severus gave into a dry chuckle. "You'd think I'd know by now not to bet on these things with you."

"We said you were intelligent, Hermione, not that you were bright."

This time, Remus did choke, and it took him several minutes before his breath was back to normal. "Just how long have you two been doing this?"

"Since Moody started screaming 'constant vigilance' in our ears all the time," Hermione answered casually. "It made us pay a lot more attention to things like that."

"Then with Umbridge and DA, it just made things even more interesting," Ginny took up, starting to laugh again. "Not only did it give us opportunity, it gave us fuel."

"We once had Ginny imitate the ugly toad's 'hem hem' nonsense to find out how many people jumped."

"Who won that one?"

"Hermione," Ginny admitted, making a face. "I thought that at least a few people would automatically go for their wands, but no, they all flinched."

"One moment," Severus interrupted, and they all looked at him. "Would this have anything to do with the two of you exchanging money over Potter's bed after _that_ battle?"

The two girls shared a long look, much of the amusement gone. "Call it gallows humor," Ginny offered after a moment. "The last defense against succumbing to the pressure and the fear."

"What were you betting on?" Remus asked curiously. It had been over a year, sufficient time for most healing, and he genuinely wanted to know what it was that had kept these two incredible witches from breaking down on that nightmare of a battle field.

"That particular bet?" she clarified. "We had nine or ten of them going on during those couple of days."

"That particular bet, then."

"We bet on the first name Harry would say when he woke up," Hermione answered in a low voice.

As Remus had been at death's door, and Severus not much farther, neither of them had been there when the Boy-Who-Lived had awoken, and both found themselves wondering. "What was it?"

"Sirius," Ginny whispered, her face pale. Her appetite gone, she found herself aimlessly pushing her food around on her plate. She stood abruptly, straightening her robes. "I should go. Poppy will need my help in the infirmary with all that."

Hermione watched her leave, large brown eyes sorrowful.

"Hermione?" Remus asked delicately. "What did we-"

The girl shook her head, more wispy curls coming loose from her braid to frame her face. "Harry woke tearful with Sirius' name on his lips. Ginny woke up shaking."

"With whose name?"

"…Tom's." Remus paled, and Severus' brows drew together in a fierce scowl, hand clutching reflexively at his left forearm. Hermione smiled sadly. "Needless to say, we didn't lay any bets on that one."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Remus returned to his chambers that night after grading and patrolling the corridors, it was to find Callum still awake, sitting on the couch and dutifully practicing his pipes. He was getting better, the man decided, closing the portrait behind him.

Callum immediately stopped and looked up at him. "There you are," he scolded. "I thought you were going to stay out all night."

"Yes, Mother Callum," Remus teased, ruffling the boy's auburn curls.

"Can we go to the kitchens?"

"What?" It was an odd request, to sat the least, especially as Poppy made sure that no one in her infirmary, patient or not, went hungry.

"When Miss Mione brought be back from the hospital wing, she mentioned that Ginny hadn't eaten much at dinner. I thought that with how long it's been and with all the healing she did that she might be hungry, and we could take her a snack."

"That sounds like a very nice thing to do, Callum." Smiling, Remus opened the portrait back up. "Shall we?"

It was a very nice thing to do, certainly well intentions, but the two males entered into the infirmary to find the mediwitch apprentice dozing over her desk, wand still clutched loosely in her hand. Poppy smiled slightly at them, her kind eyes red rimmed with fatigue.

"Would you believe they tried to keep fighting even after Minerva got them here?" she whispered. "I do believe the only thing that got them still was Miss Weasley threatening to stun them all." She smiled fondly at the girl and shook her head indulgently. "Ah, well. Remus, would you please do me a favor and see Miss Weasley safely to bed? I can't bear the thought of her spending another night in that desk, and my rooms are right here if any of the children need anything."

Remus could think of nay number of reasons why he should say no, of why it was a tad bit inappropriate, but that would have meant admitting that his feelings for the girl had changed, and he wasn't quite ready to address that truth as yet. Instead, he nodded and passed the bundle of snacks to Callum, scooping the sleeping Ginny into his arms. He was rather surprised at how light she was, for all her curves.

She mumbled something and nestled closer in his embrace, her breath tickling warmly against his neck, and he was abruptly grateful that the lights were dimmed for the night; he could feel himself blushing.

"Callum, do you know her password?" he asked when they'd gotten to the hallway.

"She changed it yesterday; she hasn't told me her new one yet," the boy lied easily. "She could sleep in our rooms, though," he added. "I can sleep on the couch."

"Callum, that isn't a really good idea," he replied, though it was an awfully tempting one. "If anyone found out, people could talk, and that could hurt Ginny."

Crestfallen eyes, one blue, one grey, stared up at him reproachfully. "But she sleeps so little," he pleaded in a small voice. "I don't want to wake her up."

_Damn. Remus sighed, shaking his head. "You have been spending entirely too much time with her."_

Laughing, Callum skipped ahead in the hallway. He was, after all, a very smart boy; he knew when he's won a battle.

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"Well, it turns out that we won't have to wait for my contact after all," Severus announced swooping into the laboratory. "Albus had some harpy's tears in his private stores."

"Oh, that's right, he has studied extensively in potions," Hermione mused. "I'd almost forgotten that he was one of the discoverers of the twelve uses of dragons' blood."

"Seeing how much you read about it while interfering in your first year, how could you?" he sneered, and she promptly stuck her tongue out at him.

"Fine," she retorted. "You don't play nice, I don't give you my present."

"Present?" he repeated, arching one dark brow.

"I went to the library-"

"Surprise, surprise."

"-and looked up a bit on virgin's blood, and I think Ginny may be on to something with that, so I went to Madam Pomfrey and got a vial of it."

"Speaking of virgin's blood," he murmured, coming to stand closely, too closely, behind her at the counter. "What was that conversation earlier?"

She blushed crimson and grabbed for her notes. "Shall we start brewing, then?" she asked, her voice unnaturally high. "I think I've got the correct proportions worked out."

He smirked wickedly. Yes, he decided, still squeamish.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Settling Ginny on the couch, Remus found soon found himself carrying Callum into the boy's bedroom and tucking him in, despite the child's best intentions of chivalry. He went back out into the living room and stared at the sleeping girl, indecision flooding his mind. He knew from experience that while the couch was perfectly comfortable to sit on, it was decidedly uncomfortable to sleep on. The wolf whined within his mind, and the image of a wolf nuzzling its mate sprang before his eyes. _She is not my mate_, he told it fiercely, though he couldn't deny that it was a lovely image.

Sighing, he picked her up again and carried her into his room, laying her down on the bed and removing her shoes and outer robes. He didn't think she'd be very comfortable sleeping in her skirt and jumper, but he wasn't about to undress her, so in that she stayed. Remus changed into his pajamas and did his other nightly routines, gingerly climbing into the far side of the bed. The scent and warmth of her was maddeningly close, and he could almost feel the contours of her body melding against his. He wanted so badly to blame this attraction on the wolf, but he knew that he couldn't.

_Molly will kill me if she ever finds out about this, he sighed to himself. He settled into the pillows, ready for a long, sleepless night._

Two bells found him startled out of a light doze by the tangy scent of fear, and he came alert quickly. The girl on the bed next to him was trembling, but he didn't think it was from cold. Then he remembered how her previous nightmare had started, and he groaned. "Do none of us sleep normally?" he muttered. His hand outstretched to shake her shoulder, he suddenly stopped himself; he knew that waking someone from a nightmare was not always the smartest thing one could do. Sometimes, the sleeper went into shock.

It tore at his heart, though, to see her shaking, her head tossing from side to side, her long red hair falling across her face like streams of blood. With a strangled cry, she tumbled from the bed, hitting her head sharply on the bedside table.

"Ginny!" he cried, and the wolf howled.

She sat up, one hand clutched to her forehead, her trembling not diminishing. "Where-" she mumbled.

"You're in my room," Remus told her, quickly kneeling down before her. "Lumos." The tip of his wand blazed brightly and she winced. "I didn't know the password to your rooms."

"Callum does."

"He told me-!" Remus cut himself off. He'd deal with that later. "Let me see."

"I'm fine," she protested, but her face was pale.

"Ginny," he said firmly. "Let me see." Reluctantly, she lowered her hand, and he explored the wound with gentle fingers. It wasn't deep, nor very wide. It looked worse than it was, bleeding sluggishly but profusely as facial wounds tend to do. The fair skin around it was already starting to bruise.

Ginny closed her eyes as he incanted the simple healing and cleaning spells, letting his voice wash over her. It wasn't a sexy voice, a little too hoarse and a little too tired, but it a was kind voice, a voice you wanted to hear if for no other reason than that it gave you peace.

After the wound was gone, Remus couldn't quite bring himself to take his hand from her face, his rough fingers smoothing over her jaw, cupping her cheek. Vanilla and cinnamon teased his brain, and she opened amber brown eyes to regard him wistfully. It was that wistfulness that sent him spinning, that made the wolf snarl with protective fury. Hesitantly, he shifted closer to her and pressed his lips softly to hers, feeling his mind explode.

One small hand slid to the back of his neck, stroking the fine hairs there, and he deepened the embrace, his tongue skimming lightly along her lower lip before she opened her mouth to welcome him in. It turned slightly savage a moment later, with him nipping sharply at her lip. Horrified, he pulled away, his breathing harsh and even.

She stared at him, her chest rising and falling breathless little pants, soft and quiet, the sorrow coming back into her eyes.

"Ginny, I'm sorry," he gasped, but she shook her head, laying her fingers against his lips.

Standing up, she pushed aside the momentary wave of dizziness and steadied herself, taking her shoes and robes in hand and moving towards the door.

"Wait! Ginny, please don't…" he trailed off, meeting her carefully expressionless gaze, and had no idea how to continue. "Ginny, I can't…he-he…Ginny…please don't go." He stood and walked up to her, pulling her stiff body into a gentle embrace. "I can't, but, please…stay with me," he whispered in her ear. "I don't want you waking up from another nightmare with no one there."

They both knew that wasn't everything, but after a minute, a terrifying, heart-stopping minute, she slowly nodded. He took the robes and shoes and set them over a chair, taking her hand to lead her back to the bed. He laid down beside her, arms loosely around her, his breath warm on her neck. And when she trembled in the darkness, he held her tighter to him, and the nightmares fled.

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Hermione held her breath, watching the quicksilver separate with the addition of the harpy's tears, steel grey smoke curling up from the base of the cauldron. Her body cried out to her for sleep, she had spent the entire night sitting at the countertop, watching and taking notes on how the various ingredients interacted with each other. She worked in minute proportions, using no more than absolutely necessary to determine to outcome. She smiled and carefully added in a drop of helonius oil, swearing as a large poof of lavender smoke wafted from the mix.

She felt a hand settle on her shoulder and stifled a shriek, turning around with her wand pointed at the other person's throat before she could think.

"Excellent reflexes, Miss Granger," a deep voice breathed, her tired eyes blinking to make him out through the haze of adrenaline. "You might wish to work, however, on noticing when someone else is in the room."

"Hermione," she corrected absently. "And I was focusing."

"Yes, I could see that." He frowned slightly at her ink-stained hands, and the smudges of black across her cheek where she'd pushed her hair out of her face. "This is not a puzzle to be solved in a single night, Hermione, certainly not when you're this sleep-addled."

"The felonious didn't work," she mumbled, turning back around to look at the brown paste that was all that was left of that trial.

"Or perhaps it simply didn't work in that order or proportion," he replied, glancing over her notes. "It is not an answer to be found so quickly."

"Callum shouldn't have to grow up like this," she whispered, head sinking down onto her arms. Her voice became muffled by her body. "I just want so desperately to let him be anormal boy."

"Hermione, listen to me." Reluctantly, she lifted her head and met his intense black eyes. "I have been working on finding a cure for lycanthropy since I graduated, and each attempt brings me closer, but that is with twenty years of searching and diligent work. Not everything is successful the first time through. We have had a major innovation with the Wolfsbane, and we shall have another, hopefully soon. It is the way of potions to be trial and error in creation, more error it seems. This is something you must learn. You cannot let it dishearten you."

"The harpy's tears reacted with the quicksilver exactly the way I thought it would," she said instead, reaching for her sheaf of notes.

He took her hand in his and held it flat against the table. "You must get some rest, Hermione," he told her quietly. "We'll continue with this when you've had some sleep."

"It just seemed like it was a step forward!" she cried, frustrated.

"It was a step forward."

"Yeah, followed by two steps back."

"Even at that pace, though, we still get to where we're going," he reminded her, raising one eyebrow. "Or need I take you through the mathematics."

"No, sir," she sighed. "I just want it to be the other way around."

"To bed, Hermione," he ordered firmly.

"Yes, sir," she sighed again.

"Hermione."

"Yes, sir?"

"I believe we agreed that it's Severus."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Had Ginny been in the room with them, she probably would have agreed wholeheartedly with Hermione. Every step forward was indeed followed by two steps back. She woke up with the sun streaming across her face, in her own room, her own bed, without any idea of having got there. She could still smell the scent of Remus against her back, on her neck. And on the nightstand, set a safe distance as always from the side of her bed, there was a note.

She didn't want to read it. Anything that explained how she woke up alone in her own bed after sleeping so peacefully, dreamlessly, in Remus' arms had to be a bad thing. She was, however, a Gryffindor, and one who knew better than most how courage and bravery applied in all sorts of situations, so she reluctantly unfolded the parchment.

_"Ginny,_

_I am deeply sorry for last night. My behaviour was inexcusable, and it shall not happen again. Poppy flooed me with the password to your rooms so that I could take you back, and I'll be speaking with Callum about his poor lack of judgment. And be chastising myself for my own poor decision. I am sorry if I have in any way hurt you, and hope that you had no unpleasant dreams after being returned to your own room._

_-R.J. Lupin_

Stunned, Ginny let the paper fall from her hands to the floor, sitting dumbly on the edge of her bed.

He had asked her to stay.

One step forward.

He had regretted it.

Was it really only two steps back?


	11. Chapter 11:Scents and Sensations

**Disclaimer: Duh.**

_A/N: Well, we all know what tonight is: YAY! So, obviously, update may not happen for a little while. I even requested the day off work so that I could read it straight through; I think I'd go crazy if I had to take a break after waiting this long for it. So, while I cannot hope to compare with the great Ms. Rowling, I hope you enjoy, and please please PLEASE review._

_Chapter Eleven: Scents and Sensations_

Ginny sat for a long time on her bed that morning, staring at the folded bit of parchment on the floor. Scalding tears streaked down her cheeks and she found it intolerably hard to breathe, like someone had wrapped an iron band around her chest and continued to tighten it. After nearly an hour, she did what every sensible girl does when her heart was broken. She took a long, hot shower, put on a bit of make-up, dressed to kill, and went down to breakfast where she promptly ignored Remus to the absolute best of her ability.

Had Hermione been there, she wouldn't have been fooled, but she had finally gone to bed and blessed sleep after a night of chasing the elusive white rabbit, and wasn't at breakfast. There were any number of women on staff who might have recognized it, had they been a bit younger, and Poppy would certainly have seen it, purely out of the gentle compassion that was her soul, but she rarely ate in the Great Hall, preferring to be in the infirmary at all times in case of emergency. A few of the oldest students saw it, recognized it, but had no idea as to the cause. It was something they themselves did, those young women so close to their majority. When faced with a broken heart, you did one of two things: you one) wallowed in your pity with your friends and a great deal of chocolate, not getting out of your pajamas for as many days as necessary, or two) showed them exactly what they were turning their back on.

It was not surprise to some of them that Ginevra Weasley had chosen this second option. She was a legend in that school in her own right, a powerful witch, a good friend, and a thoroughly frightening enemy. And on most people, this option would have worked beautifully. On any of her past boyfriends, in fact.

Remus, however, was not an ordinary person, and even through his own turmoil, the wolf could smell, could taste, could feel her pain. If he looked closely, he could see the redness of her eyes that the make-up couldn't hide, see the pulse beating an erratic tattoo at the base of her throat. She ate nothing, didn't even bother pushing her food around on her plate. She cupped her tea in both hands, trying to warm them, and sipped at it, feeling the steam curl around her face.

There was one person who saw, and recognized, and knew. And wondered. It was not, as one might suspect, Albus Dumbledore, who often seemed oblivious to any relationship he didn't have a hand in, but rather, a man sitting at the far end of the staff table, his pitch black eyes traveling over them both as he drank his thick, dark coffee. Severus was a very private man, though, and he respected other people's privacy. That didn't necessarily mean that he didn't do all he could to find out the secret; it simply meant that having learned it, he felt no compulsion to share said secret. So he observed, and he wondered, and he resolved to understand.

It did not escape the former spy's notice that Callum was not at breakfast. It could have the rather simple explanation, of course, that the full moon began that night, and the boy would doubtless need his rest for the coming nights. Yes, that could explain it, but his instinct told him that it didn't, and he'd long ago learned to trust his instinct. His talkative apprentice had passed on several interesting pieces of information from the Littlest Weasley, and he knew that Callum had been dealing very very well with the werewolf, better, it could even be said, that Lupin ever had. For Ginny said Callum had made a truce with himself, and certainly the negligible number of nightmares he experienced nowadays was an indication that it was working.

He was rather surprised by the thought that he would need to tell Hermione about this, so she could work on it, too. As unsubtle as she was in her dealings or approach, she could understand the finest subtleties in a person, problem, or potion, and she knew Miss Weasley far better than he did. If she could provide any information, the puzzle would have that many more pieces in it. With that thought in mind, he rose from the table and swept away to begin preparing for his lessons, but not before doing a very interesting and somewhat uncharacteristic thing: passing by Ginny's chair, he stopped briefly and laid his hand gently on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly before continuing on his way. She looked after him, startled, but grateful.

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Callum lay huddled in a small ball under his bed, whimpering and crying, tears running down his face and choking off his breath. Remus had yelled at him. He rocked himself back and forth, arms wrapped tightly about himself. Remus had been angry with him. His nose ran and his throat hurt, and the wolf whined pathetically in his mind. He had hurt Remus and Ginny. He had hurt his pack.

As the light changed the shadows on the floor, he knew the day was passing, though he continued to lie hidden long after his tears had ended. He did not want to be there when Remus came back, did not want to be in so much turmoil before the transformation. He had had such high hopes for this moon, had prayed that his instinct was correct and that the wolf wouldn't be as desperate. He didn't know what to expect with such agitation, but he knew that his human self wasn't the only one in pain; he still cared for Remus and Ginny, even as a wolf. They were his pack.

While Remus was teaching his last class of the day, Hermione entered the chambers and called quietly for Callum. He didn't come out immediately, but, having been enlightened by Severus, she wisely informed him that there was no one with her. He crawled out from under the bed and she wordlessly handed him the smoking goblet of Wolfsbane. He drank it down, giving her back the empty goblet.

The young woman smoothed his tousled curls, wiping away a smudge of dirt from his cheek. "Ginny loves you, Callum," she told him softly. "She said to tell you that she's not angry with you, and that you didn't hurt her, so you needn't feel guilty. Will you go see her?"

"Why didn't she come see me herself?" he wondered in a tiny, guilt-stricken voice.

"Because she didn't want to get you in more trouble with Remus. Go to her, Callum, please. She can't stand the idea that she got you in trouble."

"She didn't," Callum whispered. "I lied to Remus. I just thought…" he sniffled and she pulled him to her in a gentle hug. "I just thought that if she stayed he would have to admit that he likes her," he confessed. "I didn't think he'd get so angry."

"It's all right, Callum," she soothed, rubbing his back in slow circles. "It's all right."

"It's not all right."

"Perhaps not," she agreed solemnly. "But it will be."

Meeting her gaze, he nodded gravely and moved closer to the fireplace. "Will you tell Remus?"

"I will."

Callum threw the powder into the fireplace and walked through the flames into Ginny's room. He saw her sitting at her piano, not playing, just sitting there, staring at her hands where they rested on the black and ivory keys. "I'm sorry," he choked.

She turned around, her amber brown eyes infinitely sad, but she smiled at him and held out her arms. He raced into them and she held him tightly, murmuring into his hair. He couldn't make out the words she was saying, but just her voice soothed him, just her touch and her gentle presence. Tears trickled down her face to fall on his scalp and he just squeezed harder. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Callum," she told him fiercely. "This is between me and Remus." She pulled back slightly and looked him in the eye. "Although, you shouldn't have lied to him. But I will not have you feeling guilty because he can't face his problems."

He nodded, after thinking this through, and the tension lifted. For the first time all day, he could breathe again. "Can…" He trailed off, licking his lips nervously. "Can I stay here tonight?" he asked in a small voice.

She looked at him with surprise, but nodded. "You don't think it'll be a problem?"

"He's calm around you," he answered, shaking his head. "We both are."

Ginny didn't want to ask which both it was.

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Remus left the Potions Master's office after drinking his Wolfsbane. Severus had, for once, not said anything, simply watched him thoughtfully, and that was unnerving enough in itself, never mind how the rest of his day had gone. He knew he had overreacted to every part of the situation; it was just his own little PMS, or Pre-Moon Syndrome, as Sirius had rather grotesquely named it. He stalked into his chambers, forcing himself to take deep, calming breaths before talking to Callum. He needed to apologize. He wasn't entirely sure how to apologize to a nine year old boy for yelling at him, but he had to find a way. This wasn't really Callum's fault.

He didn't find Callum in his chambers, however. Instead, he found Hermione Granger idly leafing through one of Callum's books on astronomy, the very one, in fact, that Heidi had given him for his birthday. "Good evening, Remus," she greeted casually, not even looking up from the pages.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, aware only after the fact of the snarl to his voice.

She closed the book and met his gaze unflinchingly, despite the wolf in him rising closer to the surface. "I'm here to relay the message that Callum is with Ginny, and will stay with her tonight."

"Tonight's the full moon," he said stupidly.

"Yes, Remus, I think we're all aware of that," she snapped sarcastically, and that crazy, inappropriate part of his brain decided that she had definitely been spending too much time around Snape.

"She'll get hurt."

"No, she won't. Callum loves her with every part of him. Every part," she repeated with particular emphasis. "Neither the boy nor the cub will ever hurt her. You, though, are another story entirely."

"Hermione-" he bristled.

"Shut up, Remus," she ordered, her gaze hard. "Against my better judgment, I'm passing on the rest of the message, as well. If you promise to behave yourself, you may join them after you've transformed and have control. If this is what you wish, I will remain here until you've changed so that I can open the Floo for you. If you hurt her, however, I will personally lace every single thing you eat and drink with all the silver essence I can lay my hands on. You will not hurt Ginny, Remus, she has been through too much."

He stared at her, his hazel eyes wide. "Ron was right," he said finally, biting off a short, humorless bark of laughter. "You are scary."

"I mean it, Remus. Now what's your choice?"

"I have to go; I can't let Callum transform by himself, the Wolfsbane isn't enough yet."

"I highly doubt that it's Callum's control that's going to be the trouble tonight," she replied dryly.

"Hermione!"

"Well?" she queried simply, raising her eyebrows. Definitely, definitely too much time around Snape.

"Why do I have to wait till after moonrise?" he asked instead.

"We want to make sure that all the wolves are nice and calm before putting you in the same room together," she answered. "I think you'll agree, that's a reasonable precaution. Ginny's rather fond of some of the things in her living room, and I know she'd rather they not get torn apart just because you can't accept your hormones."

"Hermione!"

"I have the feeling that you'd rather not have me see your actual transformation, so would you like me to go into the study and wait?"

"No." He shook his head, trying to clear out the cobwebs of confusion that made it hard to think straight. "I'll go in the bedroom. I need to change clothes anyway. I'll scratch at the door when I'm ready to be let out."

"All right."

He couldn't remember any transformation so utterly, intensely, completely painful. The wolf was furious, howling at the top of his lungs as he tore from Remus' human body, the fur sprouting, the limbs shifting and twisting, changing. Even with the Wolfsbane flowing through his system, the wolf did not relinquish control easily, and Remus knew it would be a battle all night. He debated the wisdom of exposing Ginny to that, but truly was concerned for Callum, and the wolf would have it no other way. Then, too, he wanted to prove to Ginny that she was wrong, that he was not something to be understood. He, what he was, was something to be feared and hated.

Not loved.

When he was feeling more or less himself, or at least the dark, gloomy, thoroughly morbid self that he was during the full moon, he scratched at the door and Hermione let him out. She had seen him in wolf form once before, on that night that brought him screaming to wakefulness in his nightmares from time to time, and seemed utterly unsurprised. She said nothing to him, merely moved over to the fireplace and threw in the Floo powder. "Ginny's room, password, bedbug," she declared clearly. The flames roared green and he stepped inside. "I mean it, Remus," her words followed him through. "You hurt her, I will hurt you worse."

He stepped through into Ginny's living room, his heart pounding painfully inside his chest at the chaos he knew he would find. He was, therefore, astonished to find nothing broken, nothing clawed or bitten or smashed about. Sweet, melancholy music drifted through the room, coming from the redhead sitting calmly in front of the piano, dressed in simple flannel pajama pants and a tank top. Curled up in a contented ball at her feet was a small werewolf, tail draped over his nose as he listened to the music.

Remus had no idea what to do, and with that, the wolf took control. With a whine that came from deep in his throat, he edged closer, tail drooping, head hung low. Amber brown eyes looked straight into the golden eyes of the large, deadly creature slowly closing the distance between them.

"That's very sweet," she told the animal, and its tail wagged slightly with joy at hearing that soothing voice. "But you can't apologize for his problems."

Remus was stunned, and rather insulted, and he prepared the wrestle the demon for control. Surprisingly, the wolf gave in without a fight, slinking to the back of his brain, still there, still aware, and running through every sense and emotion and thought that came in. He turned back to look at Ginny, who was still watching him thoughtfully.

"And hello to you, too, Remus," she greeted. After a moment, she returned her attention to the music, and the cub gave a contented growl.

_Boy, he corrected almost absently._

Of all the transformations that he'd undergone in all those years, he couldn't think of a single one that was stranger. Perhaps the first nocturnal prowl of the transformed Marauders could come close, but it certainly didn't beat it. Ginny very calmly played the piano, occasionally talking to one or the other of them, though usually Callum and rarely Remus. The music washed over him, keeping him quiet, smoothing out his anxiousness. He couldn't understand how the wolf wasn't raging within Callum, he was so young, had been so recently bitten, but he just lay there under the bench, his chin resting on the top of one of Ginny's bare feet. Her flesh was so close to his jaw, so dangerously close, yet his jaw never opened but once or twice in a lupine yawn.

Ginny eventually stopped playing, shaking out her hands and massaging them to relieve the stiffness of using them too long. She moved over to her couch, and Remus hesitantly followed. When she sat down, he settled on his haunches near her, laying his chin on her knee and gazing up at her soulfully. She frowned down at him, her eyes hard, but her hand moved softly along the top of his head, her nails scratching gently behind one ear. It was utterly amazing how good that felt.

"I don't think it's very fair of you to do this, Remus," she told him lowly, and he whined at the heavy pain in her voice. "The wolf in you has no problem with telling me, with wanting me, but what do _you_ want?"

He wanted to tell her, wanted so badly to let her know, but he didn't know what he would be telling her. He nuzzled her knee and whined again.

"I told you I wasn't scared," she whispered. "I told you your friends accepted you for who and what you are. Two of us have seen you tonight, and we didn't run. The only one that's scared is you. And you shouldn't have yelled so badly at Callum this morning. He was just trying to help. He made a mistake, yes, but he more than paid for it by spending the day crying under his bed. He had absolutely no reason to suspect that you'd fly off the handle like that. You've made him happy, Remus. He just wants to do the same for you. You're his pack. A pack protects, a pack supports…a pack loves."

He was terrified, but for the first time in his life, he made the conscious decision to relax and trust the wolf…trust himself. He leaned forward and lightly licked Ginny's hand. She giggled reflexively, then smiled.

"And I'm sure that was very hard for you, but it turned out all right, didn't it?" she asked softly.

Yes, it had, he realized, laying his head back on her knee.

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Remus awoke to the pain, immediately stumbling away from the couch, but surprisingly, it wasn't nearly as bad. It still hurt, there were just some things that the human body was never meant to do, but the wolf wasn't fighting it, wasn't clawing at his skin in an attempt to break free, to stay unrestrained. He found the clothing Callum had thoughtfully gone back to the rooms to get and changed into the loose, not quite pajamas that gave him the easiest mobility after the moon. Callum awoke briefly as he, too, changed back, but fell asleep again almost immediately. Scooping up the cub, and this time, Remus offered no correction, he went back through the fireplace and tucked Callum into his own bed, lightly kissing his forehead.

He returned through the flames and, for a time, simply watched the young woman sleep on the couch. She'd fallen asleep at some point in the night, feeling completely safe in a room with two transformed werewolves, and he had curled up with her, giving her the warmth of his fur. She shivered now, in the early morning chill of late September.

Picking her up, Remus carried her into her bedroom and laid her down on the bed, sliding her gently under the blankets. Then, trusting the wolf, he slid in on the other side of her, cradling her to him, losing himself in her scent and the feel of her softness against him. He ached, he knew he should see Poppy for a pain relieving potion, but he didn't want to leave Ginny, this young woman he was reluctantly coming to care for in an entirely new way.

She stirred at the warmth, her eyes opening sleepily and looking around her. She turned slightly, glancing back at him, and he met her inquisitive, puzzled gaze.

"I wanted to stay with you," he whispered.

After a moment, she nodded, a slow smile tugging at her lips.

He didn't kiss her; somehow, that just wouldn't be right. He lightly nuzzled her neck and she snuggled against him, the both of them drifting back into sleep, safely wrapped in the warmth and scent of each other. Callum checked on them once after lunch, to see if they needed food, or if Remus needed a potion, and found them both still asleep, their faces completely relaxed, no trace of nightmares tightening their muscles with tension. Smiling, he tiptoed back out the door and let them be. His pack was whole, his pack was peaceful.

He even whistled to himself as he strolled back to his room.


	12. Chapter 12: Here Goes Nothing

**Disclaimer: Yes, it's all mine, every single bit of it, and I'm telling you this from a room with padded rubber walls.**

_A/N: I know this is a very short chapter, but it just seemed like the right place to stop it. Enjoy Book 6! I know I certainly will. J_

Chapter Twelve: Here Goes Nothing

Hermione was holding her breath again. It was a bad habit when one was working with potions; some things took longer to react than others, and if she held her breath waiting for them all to occur correctly, she'd be passing out long before many of them were done. However, no matter how many times her apprentice master tried to convince her that it was an absurd thing to do, she still did it.

She let it out with relief as the potion stilled to a pale, shimmery silver, thin curls of smoke wafting up from it. It looked a little like the Wolfsbane, though not quite as thick, and it didn't steam quite so heavily. "I think that may be it," she whispered.

She flinched violently when he spoke from immediately behind her. "We'll just have to give it to the fleabag to find out if it works."

"Do you have to call him that?" she complained, leaning forward to ladle the mixture into a goblet.

"Yes."

"Fine, then go tell the fleabag that his potion is ready."

Smirking, he swept from the dungeons and went in search of his colleague. Hermione hadn't realized it when she'd said it, but she had given him ample fuel for goads and insults. He might have to remember to thank her later. He found the DADA professor sprawled out under a tree by the lake, Miss Weasley between the circle of his legs, her back against his chest, studying from a medical text. She looked up at the same instant as Remus, sensing the approaching presence.

"Hello, Professor," she greeted politely. "Did you need something?"

"No," he answered simply. "Simply passing along a message."

"Playing errand boy now, Severus?" Remus asked with a grin. "Not something I'd ever pictured you doing."

"Miss Granger told me to 'tell the fleabag that his potion was ready'," he relayed with a positively wicked smirk. He swooped away, chuckling silently, at the indignant, insulted expression on Remus' face.

It didn't help Remus that Ginny was giggling. "It's not funny," he pouted. "She called me a fleabag. I knew she was spending too much time with him."

"Oh, calm down, Remus," she chortled. "Knowing Hermione, she was probably repeating the greasy git's words just to get him to deliver the message. Ron used to trap her in that all the time."

"You mean Severus and Ron have something in common?" He appeared absolutely delighted with the prospect; he also knew that Severus would be horrified.

"Don't you two ever grow up?" she sighed.

"Not if we can help it. Ow!" He rubbed his shoulder where she'd smacked him. "That wasn't very nice, now was it?"

"Come on," she ordered, snaking to her feet. "I want to see this new potion."

"Do they really think it'll work?" he wondered wistfully.

"I guess we'll find out."

The two walked side by side, and several minutes of warring with himself, Remus reached out and took her hand in his, gently rubbing his thumb against the inside of her palm. She smiled up at him, and they continued on in silence.

They couldn't be said to have progressed at all since the last full moon, although they hadn't backpedaled, either. She had made the silent decision not to start anything, not to push, not to hint, not to imply, desperate for him to come to some kind of realization. At this point, even finding out that he didn't want her would be preferable to hot and cold he'd been vacillating between. For his part, he was clueless. He had his fair share of dating experiences, but not with anyone who knew that he was a werewolf, and he'd never gotten close to any of them. He had absolutely no idea how to proceed, what to do, what to think. Then, too, there was the nagging voice in his brain that reminded him that she was twenty years his junior (less an issue in the wizarding world with the greatly increased lifespans, but still), she was his former student, she had been almost like family, and he knew for a fact that if anything actually were to happen, he'd have six brothers, a father, and a loving dragon of a mother killing him horrifically for touching the Littlest Weasley.

He was scared to death.

He dropped her hand when they passed some students, and she moved slightly away for the rest of the trip down into the dungeons. To his surprise, she merely gave the password and walked in to the laboratory. "You know the password?"

"Hermione gave it to me."

"Is there anything you two don't tell each other?"

"I assume so," she answered calmly, though the answer was truthfully a resounding no. Even when it was too much information, the best friends shared every bit of knowledge, emotion, gossip, and anything else that came to mind. Remus really didn't need to know that, though. It wasn't a thing that most men were prepared to understand.

"It's about time," Hermione greeted them.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at the scene that greeted them; seated on the counter, Hermione rested her chin on her hand, beyond tired, and the potions master stood very closely behind her. His hand soothingly rubbing the small of her back. Hermione shook her head very slightly. _Later_, she mouthed.

_It had better be good, Ginny decided, barely nodding in agreement. _

Severus didn't miss the silent communication, though he did miss the cause, and he reached out to pass the goblet to Remus. "You'll want to take your previous precautions with that," he informed him. "All we have, after all, is theory."

"Does it have to be the Shrieking Shack, though?" Hermione wondered. "Couldn't we lock him up here in the dungeons so we could watch with a mirror to see how the potion reacts?"

Remus winced, but Ginny was well used to the purely academic side of Hermione. It was sometimes a little insensitive, but she embraced knowledge so fully that she didn't always seem to realize when she was being callous. "If you wish," he murmured.

Ginny squeezed his hand briefly before letting it go again. "What about Callum?"

"We'd like to test it just on Remus, first," Snape replied. "Keep the boy on the Wolfsbane as a form on control."

Ginny nodded; that she understood. "Speaking of which, I need to go talk to him. Poppy wants me in the infirmary tonight; fights always break out after the Halloween feast." She winked at the other girl, who smiled. "Congratulations if it works, and even if it doesn't. It's still a step."

"Followed by-"

"Hush."

Hermione laughed and shook her head at her friend. They'd talked extensively about everything that was going on, and her cynicism occasionally got at the girl's frayed nerves. "See you at dinner?"

"Sure." Ginny inclined her head to the potions masters and left, Remus' eyes following her from the lab.

A long silence followed her departure. "So," Hermione said finally, clearing her throat. "Are you going to drink that or aren't you?"

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Callum stretched out on a thick rug he'd put in his room for transformations. Remus had promised that the next time there was a full moon with no students at the school, they could go out to the Forbidden Forest. The wolf had been sharing instinctual images with him, the thrill of a hunt, of the pack song, and he wanted to taste it, wanted to run and stretch his legs for the first time since he'd been bitten. It was almost sunset, and Ginny had already explained to him that he would need to stay there for tonight. It was the third night, thank Merlin, although the previous two nights hadn't been too bad. But, Heidi had said she might be able to come by on All Saint's Day, and he was looking forward to the possibility.

He curled up, staring at the ceiling, and waited.

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Remus drank down the potion and paced the walls of the dungeon cell he'd been locked into. He didn't like cages, small spaces, and he knew it was a reflection of the beast, but it still bothered. High on the wall, a single mirror provided the only decoration in the room, and he knew that Hermione and Severus were watching from the connected mirror in the lab. There were no windows, but he could feel the moon inching slowly above the horizon. Soon, the wolf would be clawing its way out.

He felt it begin and gave into the pain, dragging himself up onto his paws when it was done. Something was wrong, he realized. He was there, in the back of his own mind, but the wolf was furious, maddened past anything else. It wasn't the simple fury of being denied freedom, it was something new, something worse. His heart sank.

The potion hadn't worked.

He had no way to control the beast.

He assumed that something in the potion was enraging the creature, and he could feel pain through his entire body, something utterly repellant. Lost in the agony, Remus tumbled back into nothing but a spectator.

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"What's the matter, baby, you scared?" the boy crooned.

She shook her head, trembling head to toe. "What if someone comes?" she hissed.

"They're all the Halloween Feast," he soothed, stroking her hair. "No one's going to come. No one's going to know."

"All right," she agreed reluctantly.

He pulled out his wand and pointed it at the door of the abandoned dungeon room, formerly a classroom. "Alohomora." The lock slid open and he pushed at the door, smiling at her reassuringly.

She screamed as she met the eyes of a fully grown, fully wild werewolf.

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"SEVERUS!"

At Hermione's shriek, the man raced back from his supply cabinet, staring over her shoulder into the mirror. The room was empty, the door standing open. "How-" His mind raced. "Students. I have to tell Albus. We have to keep all the students in the Great Hall."

The two raced from the room, flat out sprinting through the halls, and their stomachs knotted in fear when they heard the second worst sound they could possibly hope to hear that night: laughter. Ringing through the halls, conversations echoing and magnifying.

The students had been released from the Feast.


	13. Chapter 13: All Hallow's Eve

**Disclaimer: Seeing as I'm not watching my book sales hit record numbers, I think we can safely say that this isn't mine.**

_A/N: Another short chapter, but I'll make up for it, I promise. Please review!_

Chapter Thirteen: All Hallow's Eve

Professor Dumbledore's voice cast magically through the entire school, causing every student to look up automatically. "Students, you will please go immediately to the nearest classroom or dormitory and lock yourselves in. Please do this calmly and efficiently."

It was, of course, absolute chaos. Students were being herded by equally confused professors into rooms dusty from long disuse, constantly unlocking doors to allow more frightened people into their confines.

Meanwhile, the wolf prowled. It slunk silently up the dungeon steps, keeping to the shadows, torchlight dancing briefly over his dark grey fur. Golden eyes gleamed, searching for prey, and it could hear the screams in the maelstrom of the upper levels. The full moon glowed seductively through the windows, and he knew that ordinary magic could not harm him. For the moment, he was invincible.

His claws clicked quietly as the floors changed to the smoother, cleaner stone of the more inhabited areas, his nose deciphering the stream of scents. There so many, hundreds, even thousands, but he sifted through until he found the freshest, the most interesting. Teeth gleamed in a lupine smile, tongue lolling out as he chased the thrill of the hunt, as he followed the fear.

With free reign of the castle, the wolf that was barely Remus stalked its unsuspecting prey.

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Hermione trotted after the graceful potions master, her wand out and at the ready as they patrolled the corridors, ushering students into rooms and putting extra wards on the doors. She was more than a little frightened of the man, his pale face contorted with fury and, she knew, fear. As much as he hated teaching idiots, he was keenly aware of his responsibility to the safety of the children in the school, and woe betide anyone other than himself threatening his students.

There was a fully grown, out of control werewolf loose in the school, and all she could do was follow after the man and thank god that Harry and Ron weren't here. Even without knowing it was Remus, they would probably have gone on some insane mission to stop it. Oh, they would have succeeded, she had no doubt, somehow the three of them always seemed to get out of their scrapes successful and more or less intact, but not with injuries and consequences. It was one less thing she had to worry about, her mind trying desperately to keep track of how many students they'd come across. It was important, more important that ever before, that every single one be accounted for, or at best there would be a new addition to the Hogwarts pack.

At worst, there would be a dead body, maybe more, if they couldn't find them all before Remus did.

She nearly jumped out of her skin as a hand touched lightly on her back, and she whirled around to find her wand against Ginny's cheek. "Gods, Ginny, you scared me half to death!" she whispered shrilly.

"Miss Weasley, the idea of a lock down is to stay where you are," Severus told her, his silky voice just short of a snarl.

"Poppy told me; she thinks Remus might recognize my scent, that it might calm the wolf down," she retorted calmly. Her face was pale, and suddenly Hermione hated the beautiful red hair she'd always reminded. Somehow, it made her feel like they wouldn't get out of this without blood being spilt. "Just be glad I'm not Harry or Ron, or I'd be going off half-cocked and clueless."

Severus snorted, and Hermione managed a weak half-smile. Strange that their thoughts should be so closely similar. Ginny winked at her, and she shook her head. Perhaps not so strange after all.

The youngest Weasley proved invaluable on their continuing search, finding students hiding in some of the most unlikely places. When she dragged a shaking Hufflepuff seventh year out of a niche behind a statue of Fentl the Flatulent, Severus became suspicious.

"How are you finding them?" he demanded.

"I sense them," she shrugged. "I know when people are around; look at who I grew up with."

Recalling the havoc her three youngest brothers were capable of creating on their most well-behaved days, he agreed and let it drop.

In the fourth floor corridor, she dropped to her knees beside a statue, running one small hand over the gouges deep in the base. "I think it's safe to say he's been this way," she announced dryly.

"Five galleons says that every Hufflepuff first year has wet themselves," Hermione muttered.

"I'm not taking that bet; you're probably right."

Ah, the wonders of gallows humor.

"Come on, this way," Ginny instructed, brushing off her knees and taking to her feet. "He's nearby."

Unquestioning, the other two followed her.

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Remus stalked towards the end of the corridor, his eyes on the unfortunate quartet pinned there by his fearsome gaze. Their fear washed over him in delicious waves, and he moved deliberately, gracefully, his paws falling slowly and steadily on the smooth stones. He passed the landing of the staircase without any thought, all of his attention focused on his frozen prey. He thrilled in the rabid beating of their hearts, the quick shallow breaths that rasped in their chests and throats. This was the hunt.

A sudden pain bloomed in his right side and he found himself thrown against the wall, whimpering as he came slowly back to his feet. He shook his head, and turned his gaze back towards his prey.

A lithe white wolf blocked his way, hackles raised and teeth bared in a ferocious snarl.

He growled at her; after all, he was male, he was alpha, but the female didn't move. Furious, he raced at her and she clawed him viciously, leaving tracks of blood seeping into his fur. He bit her savagely on the side and she whined momentarily before sending him crashing again to the wall.

The four students took advantage of this lapse in his attention to vanish behind the portrait they'd been trying to open, and he vented his rage in a hair-raising howl.

He took off through the halls, and the white wolf followed, attacking him any time he got too close to a student, giving the terrified children time to regroup and escape. Snarling, he flew at his opponent, jaws closing on tender flesh, claws ripping through skin and fur. Amber eyes glowing in the moonlight, she gave back as good as she got, tearing at him in the places he was most vulnerable, closing her teeth about his throat.

He froze; the wolf knew that this was not a good situation.

Releasing him, she backed several paces away and sat on her haunches, tongue lolling out with fatigue. He studied her, this unknown adversary. There was something familiar to her, something the wolf knew it should recognize, but the scalding pain of the potion flowing through its veins kept it from following this rational progression and he leapt at her again, the two tumbling down a staircase in a roiling mass of grey and white.

The wolf whined and tried to escape, but the potion held its fury, its pain, fully in place, and he couldn't think, couldn't run. He was an alpha male, a werewolf, with more strength than its lesser kindred; this was a battle he should have won easily. But she was a wolf protecting her cubs, two legged and furless though they may be. A growl sounded deep in the throat of the smaller creature, low and warning.

It was a warning he ignored.

He snarled again and rushed at her, digging his teeth into the bone at her shoulder. She howled, trying to dislodge him, but his size and strength was finally beginning to tell, to wear on her. He released her and batted her into a solid stone wall, hearing the crunch of bone. The white wolf whined, pulling itself pathetically to her feet, favoring her right foreleg. He'd allowed her to interfere for too long, the sunrise was approaching, and he had yet to capture suitable prey.

Advancing on her, his jaws grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and shook her hard, hurling her from him to crash into another wall. She heaved up, but fell, unable to rise to her feet. Whining deep in her throat, she gazed at him with amber brown eyes and laid her chin submissively on the floor, defeated.

He was not going to leave it at that, however. She had disobeyed an alpha.

He stepped forward, his own injuries screaming at him, and he stared down at her, teeth dripping blood as he howled in preparation for the kill

The spell caught him in his chest and sent him flying back into a wall of the same room in which he'd started. Somehow, she'd managed to herd him all the way back to the dungeons, attacking him every time he went a direction she didn't want to go. Snarling, he shot to his paws, but heavy chains wrapped themselves around him and attached to the wall, rendering him unable to move.

He struggled fiercely, but he heard another sound and suddenly the worst of the pain was gone. All he could feel was his injuries, the wolf dormant in the background. He whined and looked up.

_Dumbledore, he recognized. Memories flooded back to him, images only half-captured in the throes of the demon's madness. His whining increased, and the old man held up a single hand. He fell silent, the man within the beast knowing this command._

"The students are safe, if a bit frightened," he told him gently. "The two students who opened the door to your cell have been caught and will be severely punished once they are over their scare. It is all right, Remus."

He looked towards the white wolf, her sides heaving in labored breath and whimpered. He knew it wasn't, couldn't be, an ordinary wolf, and he was almost overcome with how he'd hurt them. Outside the walls of the castle, the sun finally broke through the misty haze of dawn, and Remus writhed in his chains, the transformation only increasing the pain, the fear. In a matter of minutes, he was a man again, albeit a very naked one, still chained to the cold wall of the dungeon. He looked back at where the wolf had been, and there the wolf still was, and Dumbledore seemed as baffled as he.

"Albus," he rasped. "Who-"

Sounds from the outside corridor cut him off as Hermione and Severus raced into the room, out of breath and robes flying behind them. They took in Remus' condition with something akin to relief, despite the blood all over him; at least he was alive.

"Oh, thank God," Hermione managed, gasping for air. Her brown eyes traveled autmotically over the room, and she froze. "Oh, God," she whispered. "GINNY!"

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The world had stopped.

He knew with an absolute certainty that his heart was no longer beating, that single moment frozen as Hermione fell to her knees beside the dying wolf, eyes wide with terror. Her hands shaking, the young woman whipped out her wand and performed the spell to revert an Animagus back to its original form, and the white wolf slowly stretched and pulled back into a bleeding, pale redhead, her robes all but shredded like her skin.

"Miss Wea-" Severus couldn't even finish the sentence, seeing the truth undeniably before him. His apprentice looked up at him, tears streaking down her ashy face.

"Get Madam Pomfrey, sir, please!" she pleaded, but it had to be too late, there was just too much blood. "God dammit, GET POPPY HERE NOW!" she shrieked, and he hurried from the room to do just that.

Remus sank down in his chains, staring at the two girls, at Ginny struggling to stay conscious within the circle of Hermione's arms. He saw her lips move, murmuring something, and Hermione saw it, too, bending down closer to hear.

"What's that, Gin?"

"Think it was…the virgin's blood…" she struggled to say.

"What?"

"Virgin's blood," she repeated weakly. "It…the werewolf…too much pain."

Hermione couldn't believe it. Ginny was so close to death, her lifeblood pumping out of her at an alarming rate, and she was trying to figure out why the potion didn't work. But then, she understood. It was something she did herself when she was scared, escaped into academia and solvable problems. She choked on a laugh and performed a strength spell, trying to keep her best friend from fading. "Hang in there," she breathed. "Just hang in there, Gin."

"Tom…"

"What about Tom?"

"Can hear…hear Tom…he's laughing at me…" What little color there was left Ginny's skin as she choked on the blood gurgling in her throat. "My hands are cold…"

"Your hands are always cold, Gin," Hermioen retorted, smiling slightly through the tears blurring her eyes. "Madam Pomfrey will be here soon. Just hang on."

"Tom's laughing…"

"Tom's dead!" Hermione cried, shoulders shaking with the sobs she was fighting back. "Come on, Ginny! You can't just give up!"

"Remus…"

"Will be fine," the older girl answered, glancing over at the uncomprehending werewolf. "He's injured, but he'll be okay. You have to hold on, Ginny, so you can be with him."

"…doesn't want…"

"That's not true!"

Sound. It was all just sound, flowing through Remus' ears as he struggled vainly to understand. Ginny was dying. He'd killed Ginny. He'd killed his mate, had killed pack.

Footsteps landed heavily in the corridor and Poppy and Severus flew in, Poppy going white when she saw the state of the occupants.

Remus stared at the blood seeping slowly into the mortar between the stones as they levitated the now unconscious young woman onto a conjured stretcher. A large black shadow knelt beside him, and the potions master's rich voice forced through into his awareness.

"Lupin, you must drink this," he urged, pressing a vial against the werewolf's lips.

He drank. _Please God let it be poison_, he prayed as the world sank into darkness.


	14. Chapter 14: Anywhere But Here

**Disclaimer: Do we really have to keep going through this?**

_A/N: Okay, so I think we can safely say that this has been knocked a little AU. I think we can more accurately say it's been blown all the way out into the left field of AU hell. But, hey, that's what fan fiction is for, right? I hope you all enjoyed Book 6; any word on when seven's coming out? Thank you so much for everyone who's reviewed, please keep it up!_

Chapter Fourteen: Anywhere But Here

There was light.

Great, golden-white shafts of light, seeming alive with the dust motes swirling through the heavy air, broke through in streams from the thick darkness. They illuminated empty space in great circles, and he was reminded of a phenomena Hermione had once told him of, something the Muggles called the Fingers of God. Five great fingers of pure, warm light shattering the alleviating blackness.

He floated formlessly in the darkness, not wandering near the light, simply watching it, observing it. He didn't deserve light. Steeped in the void, details escaped him, but he knew he deserved nothing of light and warmth.

"Remus."

The voice tugged at him, vaguely familiar and distinctly unwelcome. He wasn't sure why it was unpleasant, but then, anything that threatened to tear him from this beautiful nothingness could hardly be welcomed with open arms. He fled from the voice, deeper into the darkness, and it faded away until he could no longer hear it.

The vast expanse embraced him coldly, cutting him off from sights and sounds. He could feel nothing, hear nothing. The half-remembered scent of vanilla and cinnamon teased at him, the only thing capable of intruding in his exile. It chased him back towards the shafts of light, back towards the voice.

"Remus."

Reluctantly, he floated into one of the pillars and found himself drawn upwards, past the darkness, into a half-lit world of sensation and memory.

"Why won't he wake up?"

"At least he's conscious."

"But why won't he wake up?"

"He's suffered massive injury, not to mention, severe trauma. It will take time."

He puzzled over the words, his brain beginning to remember distinctions, male and female. Names escaped him, but he knew they were familiar. He tried to sink back into oblivion, but couldn't find the way. His body intruded upon him, making him aware of pain, all-consuming agony that laced through vein, bone, and muscle alike. A gentle touch adjusted bandages, stroked his forehead checking for fever, and left him alone once more.

"Remus."

He turned away from the patiently insisting voice. Not yet. No, please, not yet. There were questions to be asked, answers to be given, but he wasn't ready for them. He pushed himself away from recollection and focused instead on the changing, shifting patterns of light. A goblet pushed at his lips and he was aware of liquid making its way down his raw throat, keeping the pain at bay.

"Remus."

It was time. With an internal sigh, hazel eyes opened slowly and blinked against the sterile white light. A face swam into focus above him, and gradually, it sorted itself out into features rather than just a blurry mass of colors. Fluffy white hair and beard, gleaming half-moon glasses, a very long and crooked nose, and blue eyes whose customary twinkle was subdued.

"Albus," he croaked, and his voice protested the use, screaming at him with fire in his throat.

"Remus," the Headmaster acknowledged gravely. "How do you feel?"

He cast about for an answer, searching through his hateful memory for those last few moments of consciousness. "It wasn't poison."

"No, it wasn't poison," the old man agreed, the twinkle starting to come back. "You didn't really think we'd do that, did you?"

"How is she?"

"How do you feel?"

Icy fear hardened itself in his heart, and he couldn't think past the agony far worse than any his body had ever known. Once again, the darkness claimed him.

When he returned to the light again, the Headmaster was gone, and in his place was a face obscured by a halo of frizzy chestnut hair. "Hermione," he whispered, and this time, his voice protested a little less.

"How do you feel?" she asked quietly, and he could see the fatigue and strain in her face.

"How is she?"

She regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment, her honey brown eyes solemn. He knew Hermione, knew the way her mind worked, and could almost see her weighing out each option and determining the results. "Not good," she answered finally, honestly.

"Tell me," he rasped.

"Remus-"

"Tell me," he insisted, and she bit her lower lip anxiously.

"Madam Pomfrey increased her chances of survival from fifty-fifty to fifty-one-forty-nine," she answered. "But it's going to be along road if she does. And no, I'm not giving you the details," she snapped, though not harshly. "When you better, we'll tell you, then."

He nodded, his head pounding with the effort, and sank back into the pillow. "Callum?"

"Worried, but alright. He's staying down with me when we can pry him away from you and Ginny. He's sleeping right now." She fidgeted with the clasp of her robes, staring out him with haunted eyes. "Remus, I'm so sorry," she breathed, little more than a gasp. "We had no idea that it would go so spectacularly wrong."

"Experiment," he said simply, hurting to much to form a complete sentence.

"Still…"

"Ginny."

"Was the white wolf, yes," she confirmed, her hands shaking. She started organizing and straightening the collection of vials and ointments on the table, calming herself. "We all got it when she was in sixth year, all four of us."

It suddenly made sense, everything that had been puzzling him over the past months. A wolf sang in her blood, through unaffected by the moon, of course she could see it in him and Callum. He thought back to the way she always knew when someone else was in a room, knew who it was, how her presence and her voice soothed the wolf within. Like called to like. He should have known so long before, but simply couldn't see it.

"Rest, Remus," Hermione told him softly, brushing a strand of hair back from his face. "Rest."

Her words took him back to the gentle, un-judging darkness.

He woke feeling slightly better, physically speaking. His fingers curled and uncurled into his palms, and he flexed his wrists carefully, testing to find his limits. Small hands shifted the bedcovers so he could try his elbows. He let his head fall to the side and met worried eyes, one grey, one blue. "Callum."

The little boy had no words, and Remus wished he could spare him the sight of his injuries, of his appalling weakness. Silently, Callum helped him move, gently pulling the protesting limbs into simple motions. He was exhausted when it was finished, and Callum carefully held a glass of cool water to his lips, watching his drink with difficulty.

"Madam Pomfrey says she'll get better," the child said finally, voice cracking on old tears. "She said that this morning. She's gonna get better. We're still pack."

"I attacked-"

"The potion went wrong." He shook his head fiercely, auburn curls whipping at his face. They had been meaning to trim it again, he had even been convinced to sit still for it to be done by hand. "It's not your fault, Remus." Moisture leaked out from his eyes and trembled on his lashes before falling down his cheeks.

The man heard the rustling of bustling taffeta moments before Madam Pomfrey came into view at the side of his bed. She smiled down at him, her wiry grey curls hidden under her spotless white cap. "How are you feeling, Remus?"

"Everyone keeps asking that," he rasped in reply, and her smile twitched.

Briskly, she held her wand over his injuries, checking their progress, glancing under the clean bandages just to see for herself. "Physically, you're doing better," she reported. "But we can all see that for ourselves. How are you feeling?"

"How's Ginny?" he asked instead.

"Getting better." There was sympathy in her kind blue eyes, but not, he was thankful to see, pity. "It will be some while before she wakes up, but she'll be fine, when all is said and done, you have my word on that."

"Want to see her."

"Absolutely not!" she retorted, utterly scandalized. "Remus Lupin, you are far too weak to be doing any such thing! And if you try to get out of bed, I'll tie you there myself," she added, giving him a stern look for good measure.

Sighing, he let his body fall back into the softness of the pillow and blankets. The woman bustled away, and silence reigned around him.

Callum pulled a set of pipes from his back pocket, and Remus closed his eyes. The boy had gotten them as a birthday gift from Ginny. "I've been practicing," he announced proudly. When Remus didn't reply, he set the pipes to his lips and began to play. Remus fell asleep to the soothing lullaby that ensued.

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Despite the gravity of the Littlest Weasley's injuries, Albus Dumbledore had found himself rather grateful that her most of her family had been off on an extended trip with Charlie and his fiancee in Romania. He had hoped that, by some miracle of Merlin, she might wake up, or have a speedier recovery, or something that he could use to soothe the raging dragon that would be Molly Weasley. As it was, he finally had to admit that it could not be concealed any longer, especially with the students starting to notice that they hadn't seen either their DADA professor nor their infirmary apprentice in almost three weeks.

So it was that the aged Headmaster had finally sent off the necessary owl, and was now sitting by the unconscious girl's bed waiting for them to arrive.

"GINNY!" A voice screeched, and the short, plump matriarch flew into the hospital wing still covered in soot from the grand fireplace in the entrance hall. She skidded to a halt at the foot of the bed, face turning white beneath her freckles, one hand clasped to her chest in shock. "Oh, Ginevra," she gasped.

The rest of the Weasley family (including Harry) came rushing in half a moment later, crowding around their sister and asking all sorts of questions. Albus gave them their time of panic, but when he saw Poppy starting to look thunderous, he held up his hands to quiet them.

"If I may," he offered mildly, and eight sets of eyes stared at him expectantly. "The nature of the problem, then, is this…" He went on to explain about the experimental potion, about the two children who'd opened the door when they should have been in the Halloween Feast, about Ginny taking her Animagus form to protect the children, about the bravery and strength Ginny had showed. He also detailed Remus' extensive injuries, and the two potions makers' theories on why the potion had failed.

Ron and Harry whistled, and the ginger-haired boy shook his head in utter amazement. "She took on a fully grown, in-pain werewolf? Damn, Ginny!"

"Language, Ron," Molly corrected absently, smacking him upside the back of the head. "She never said a word-"

"Of course she didn't," Fred, or possibly George, laughed. "She couldn't exactly pop up and tell us all that she'd illegally become and Animagus in her sixth year!"

"No, but she could have registered since then."

Bill stared at his youngest sibling, his favorite sibling. He and Ginny had always been closest, the oldest and youngest, and it tore at his heart to see her lying so still on the white bed, her red hair spilling over the pillow like blood. He walked up and sat on the edge of the bed, near her arm, and pushed some of the wayward hair out of her face, his fingers trailing over the healing wounds on her face and neck. "You said Remus did this?"

"Not exactly," a new voice said from behind them. They turned to find the black clad Potions Master standing near them. None of them had heard him come up. "Hermione and I came up with a potion that we had hoped would prove a cure for lycanthropy," he explained. "Lupin agreed to drink the trial potion, as he has my other attempts."

"So what happened?" Arthur demanded, his frazzled hands running through the wispy remnants of his red hair, making it stand out at crazy angles around his head.

"One of the ingredients caused the werewolf aspect to be in considerable pain, which meant that Remus was unable to maintain control. The pain drove the beast crazy. It would have been a small but regrettable incident had not those two idiots decided that their raging hormones meant more than locked dungeon doors!" he snarled, but his fury was not directed at them.

Bill took one of his sister's cold hands in both of his, trying to warn them. "Come on, Gin-Gin," he muttered. "You have to get better. We were looking forward to a rousing game of Ginny-ball at Christmas time."

Charlie chuckled as the murderous expression on their mother's face grew. "Well, maybe we'll have to save it for another hol, Bill," he suggested, and Bill smiled through the tears misting in his eyes.

"Oh, Ginny," Molly whispered again.

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Eventually, Poppy forced them all to leave, and Albus invited them to dine with him in the staff room. Remus heard them leave from behind his curtained bed (the Headmaster hadn't felt it wise to let the Weasleys see him as of yet). Poppy bustled by a moment later to let him know that she was going to grab a quick bite to eat, and that she would be back in less than half an hour.

Once her footsteps had faded away into nothingness, the man weakly shoved back the covers and swung his feet out of bed. He hissed when he felt the cold floor, but gamely tried to push to his feet. Falling to the floor, he lay there panting for a moment, trying to catch his breath against the fiery pain scalding his body.

There was no way that he was going to be able to walk over to her bedside, so he swallowed his pride and did the next best thing. He crawled. Remus dragged himself inch by agonizing inch across the chilly surface. His hands came in contact with the chair in which Albus had been sitting earlier and he pulled himself laboriously up.

He sat there gasping, staring at the unconscious girl that he had so horribly injured. Her breathing was calm and peaceful, but she wrapped in bandages nearly from head to toe, and he could see blood starting to seep through the largest ones. Shaking with the effort, he reached out and tightly held her hand.

"Gods, Ginny," he laughed humorlessly. "You'd think by now that I'd've learned how devious you are. How could you do it? You've seen the inside of the Shrieking Shack, and that was a normal transformation. How could you do it, knowing that the wolf was insane?" He squeezed her hand tightly, cold as always. "You're supposed to be awake, you're supposed to be laughing."

Tears burned in his haunted hazel eyes before spilling out over his cheeks. "You're supposed to be anywhere but here," he told her, voice cracking. "You're supposed to be out by the lake, swimming with Callum and getting more of those damn adorable freckles. You're supposed to be in the Great Hall, making inappropriate bets with Hermione. You're supposed to be at your piano, playing those sad, beautiful, ridiculous songs. You're supposed to be in the library, reading up to make sure that whatever prank your mischievous, brilliant mind has come up with goes perfectly. You're supposed to be down in the dungeons, teasing Hermione about her crush on Snape. You're supposed to be in Hogsmeade, down in the Three Broomsticks, making fun of your brothers and Harry for ogling Madam Rosmerta."

The tears came thick and fast now, and he held onto her hand like a lifeline. "Dammit, Ginevra Wealsey, this was not how I was supposed to realize I love you!" he choked, his entire body shaking. "I love your energy, your mischief, your brilliance. I love your compassion, your voice, that smug little smirk you get when you win something. I love your beauty, your courage, your strength. I love the way you imitate your mother when Callum won't eat his vegetables, I love the way you charm Snape's cloak not to billow in the halls, I love the way you sneak cat treats onto McGonagall's desk without ever getting caught. I love everything about you, and I hate that it's my fault you can't hear me!"

It was a broken man that sobbed at the young woman's bedside, curled around her hand, the only thing holding him anywhere close to sanity. "I hate that I'm the one that did this to you, hate that you're lying here not hearing any of this. I hate that I hurt you so badly, even before, and I hate that you're probably never going to want to see me again.

"Gods, Ginny, just get better and I swear I'll tell you everything, tell you how just the memory of your scent is enough to make me grin like a fool in the middle of teaching class. I'll tell you how listening to you breathe fills my heart with peace that I never thought I'd have. I'll tell you how holding you in my arms makes the world stop, and I never want it to start again."

Remus Lupin, last of the Marauders, wept over the love he'd never thought to have, that he'd never thought he deserved. He wept, his heart breaking and shattering in his chest, until his body finally betrayed him and pulled him back into merciful unconsciousness. His lean, bandaged body draped over the chair, nearly falling out of it, his grip on Ginny's hand still firm, still desperate.

Unbeknownst to Remus, Bill Weasley had come back into the infirmary for his neglected cloak in time to see the werewolf dragging himself across the floor. Mystified, still irrationally furious with the man, he stayed silent and watched, hearing the entire confession.

It only fueled his fury. The man was at least twenty years older than his beloved younger sister, the sister of whom he was so carefully protective, old enough to be her father. He had been her professor, for Merlin's sake! And yet, as he drew closer, resolved to yank the man out of the chair and leave him on the floor, he noticed a very odd thing: Ginny was smiling.

It was not much of a smile, just the gentle curve of the lips that one has when they're asleep and pleasantly dreaming, but he knew it hadn't been there when they left. He stared down at the bed and its inhabitant, and tried to think back, see if there was any way he should have foreseen this. It was obvious Remus hadn't, he realized, as his rage started to fade.

And then it clicked, an exchange he had inadvertently witnessed between his 'two sisters', as he usually called them since Hermione and Harry were practically family. It was Christmas of two years ago, and they'd once again spent it at Grimmauld Place, the last year they had done so.

_Hermione and Ginny were sitting in the kitchen, cupping their hands around steaming mugs of hot cocoa, giggling as Bill snuck in without being noticed. Ginny was quite pink in the face, and she couldn't sip from her drink for fear of spilling it, she was laughing so hard. "Did you see the look on Snape's face when he got trapped under the mistletoe with Tonks?" she chortled._

_Hermione was breathless as well, head almost laying on the table. "Oh, my God! If looks could kill!"_

_"Then we all would have been dead a long time ago."_

_"And Harry eight hundred times over."_

_"Five galleons says Fred and George don't come out of their room till he's gone."_

_"I'll take that bet; they still have to eat, after all."_

_"They're sneaky, but they're not THAT brave," Ginny chuckled, starting to calm down. "Bloody hell, that mistletoe was a great idea."_

_"Yeah, you just wish you'd been caught under it with a certain-OW!" _

_Ginny glanced significantly at the open door as Hermione gave her an injured look, rubbing her now sore ribcage. "You shouldn't-"_

_"But it's not like-"_

_"You never know when-"_

_"Who's going to-"_

_"They ALWAYS-"_

_"You don't know-"_

_"The hell I-"_

_"Oh, come-"_

_"He's our-"_

_"Yes, but-"_

_"Mum would-"_

_"I guess," Hermione sighed._

Bill hadn't had any idea what they were talking about at the time, but is made sense now. 'Professor' had to have been one of those missing words, and he knew that Remus had helped his sister a lot after her initial experiences with that damn diary. Sighing, he looked again for the smile. Yes, there it was, barely there, but visible enough to him when he knew her so very well. And it was obvious that Remus loved her. He knew that what one person told another in conversation was one thing, but sometimes, what someone said when they didn't know anyone was listening meant even more.

_"How the hell was she going to tell Mum?" He chuckled wryly at that thought, his laid back nature finally returning in full force, and he sighed. The former curse-breaker picked up the werewolf and laid him gently on the side of Ginny's bed, pulling the chair and table out of the way. Trying to be as quiet as possible, though the chances of either patient waking up was distinctly small, he pushed at the next bed over until it was touching Ginny's along the side, all but forming one large bed. He shifted Remus onto that, his sister's hand still in the man's grasp, and brought over Remus' potions, settling them separate from Ginny's on the table he placed at the foot of their beds. He might hear from Poppy about it later, or more vociferously, his mother, but he would defend it._

Bill would defend any man who made his baby sister smile.

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Remus returned to teaching the next week, though he mostly assigned bookwork, as his body wasn't quite up to teaching the practicals yet. He ate in the Great Hall at Dumbledore's assistance, and was surprised to find himself tightly embraced by Molly Weasley every time she saw him. He had thought she'd be furious, but she simply smiled through her anxious tears and shook her head whenever he asked.

And every minute that he wasn't teaching or in the Great Hall, he was at Ginny's side. Callum was usually there with him, though Hermione would carry him back to Remus' chambers once he fell asleep. Poppy had given up on trying to persuade him otherwise, but she absolutely insisted on him getting sleep. Even going so far as to drug him with potions a few times when'd proved particularly adamant.

Albus had sent the Weasleys home after a week, promising to inform them the minute Ginny's condition changed, and even Molly had to admit it was a little silly to be hovering about like a vulture. Hermione was a frequent visitor, and she would cheerfully relate all the gossip and latest happenings to the girl. Remus had, only once, remarked upon it, and she shrugged.

"We always appreciated it when we were stuck here for long periods of time," she'd told him casually, and he realized he'd forgotten how frequently the four were there during their time at Hogwarts. "Even if you don't know what's being said, it's still nice to hear a voice. It means you're not floating off on your own somewhere with no way of getting back."

After that, Remus had started occasionally doing the same. He'd tell her about the seventh year Ravenclaw who had accidentally managed to charm purple lights to flutter around every person in the class. He'd tell her about the new song Callum was learning on the pipes she'd given him. He'd tell her about the second years who had tried to start an "I Hate Snape" club. And he told her about how he missed her, how desperately he wanted her to wake up, for everything to be okay.

He was lightly dozing beside her bed, holding her hand in his, basking in the afternoon sun that came through the windows of the infirmary. The fingers stirred, tickling against his palm, and he immediately came to full alertness, sitting up and staring at her with bated breath. "Ginny?" he whispered, too scared to hope.

Amber brown eyes blinked slowly open, and it took them a moment to focus on him. "Remus?" came the raspy reply.

"Oh, Ginny, thank gods!" he cried, his heart hurting with relief. "Oh, Merlin, Ginny, I love you."

She smiled crookedly, weakly squeezing his hand. "Now that's what I call a welcome back."

"I love you," he repeated, leaning forward to kiss her softly. "And I'm never letting you go."

"That's nice," she yawned, already starting to fade.

"Rest, Ginny," he soothed, stroking her hair back from her face. "I'll be here when you wake up." With a sleepy little murmur, she closed her eyes and slipped away from wakefulness, and Remus couldn't think of anywhere but there he'd rather be.


	15. Chapter 15: Bite Me

**Disclaimer: Still not mine. If it was, Book Six would have come out a whole lot differently.**

_A/N: Okay, so this is the chapter that never ends. Happy Full Moon, and please review! I'll give you imaginary cookies and milk if you give me reviews, and then we'll all be happy._

Chapter Fifteen: Bite Me

"Help me," a voice pleaded desperately.

"Ginny, she said no."

"Remus!"

The man glanced over the stack of fifth year essays he was grading, his hazel eyes mild. "Poppy would have my hide, and you know that."

Ginny huffed and sank back down into the pillows, her fingers twitching restlessly against the bed sheets. It had been a week since she'd first awoken, and she was going slowly crazy. Too weak yet to do anything on her own, though she had finally managed to feed herself without too much difficulty, she was forced to stay in the loathsome bed in the loathsome infirmary getting nothing but loathsome rest. Needless to say, she had been in better moods in her life.

Remus had mostly recovered, despite a small setback with the full moon the week before, and he regarded her plight with sympathetic amusement. Even without the wolf singing in her blood, he knew she was not the sort to sit around doing nothing. He reached over to the bedside table and handed her a Chocolate Frog, which she took with an extremely disgruntled expression. "She said she'd release you to your own rooms tomorrow afternoon," he soothed. "You'll at least be able to play your piano."

"Just outside," she begged. "Someone could carry me, and we could just sit by the lake. Not strenuous, not stressful at all, and not capable of exacerbating my injuries."

"True. And then she'd kill me as soon as I set foot back in here for aiding and abetting."

"Also true." She sighed, the light fading in her amber eyes.

Thoughtfully, he watched her fidget over the tops of his parchments. A quick glance told him that Poppy was in her office with the door locked, taking advantage of everyone being at lunch to have a half hour of rest uninterrupted by injuries. His Marauder's mind was working, flitting from problem to problem and working out solutions. "Thirty minutes," he said finally.

She looked back at him, almost not daring to hope. "Say what?"

"I can give you thirty minutes outside," he told her firmly. "No more, or Poppy will know."

"Thank you!" she cried, grabbing his hand and kissing it fervently. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Ssh," he whispered, his shoulders shaking with laughter. "She'll hear you." Hiding the essays under her bed, he carefully scooped her up into his arms, feeling his muscles strain with a slight protest. She didn't weigh all that much, especially not after so long a time unconscious, but he was still recovering himself.

Draping her arms comfortably around his neck, she laid her head on his shoulder as he walked out of the hospital wing, keeping an eye out for anyone who might tattle to the mediwitch. They passed no one, and very soon, Ginny was reveling in the first fresh air she'd had in five weeks. Sure, the infirmary windows were open in the nicer weather, but it just wasn't the same. Remus laughed at her, out of obligation of course, but he understood.

Remus drew near the lake, and Ginny directed him to a little clearing within a stand of willows, neatly hidden from the view of anyone who might look for them. They settled down on the thick grass, and when the man made to move her from his lap, she held squeezed his neck in silent warning.

He let her stay in his lap.

"We really should talk about this," he added.

She was silent for a moment, listening to the waters of the lake shush softly against the bank. "All right," she agreed quietly.

"I'm too old for you," he began, and she made a face.

"The Headmaster is seventy six years older than Professor McGonagall," she refuted. "You're only twenty years older than me."

"Twenty-one."

"Yes, because that one year makes all the difference in the world."

He frowned at her, wanting to see her face, but it was hidden behind a veil of red hair. "I'm being serious, Ginny. I'm too old for you." His hand rose to rub her back in slow circles. "I've lived and fought through two wars, Ginny, and having lived through one yourself, you know how that ages people. And I'm realistically not going to live to the full potential of a wizard." He braced himself for the protest he always got when he told people that, but she made no sound, only a slight movement in the curtain of hair indicating that she had turned towards him a little bit. "The lycanthropy is slowly killing me," he told her, voice low. "The body isn't meant to be forced into a change like that, isn't meant to be constantly fighting itself. It's taken literally years off of my life. You'd be a girl saddled with a much older man, then a very young widow. I can't allow that to happen.

"I love you, Ginny, I admit that, but I cannot simply allow you to ruin your life like this. You have too much potential, have too much life to waste it. You are so eminently lovable. You'll always have someone, and you'll be able to forget about me." He was speaking faster now, the words rushing over themselves as he fought to get them out. "And I can't trust the wolf," he whispered. "I know you have your Animagus form, but it's not the same, nowhere near the same. I'm a Dark creature, Ginny, I'm in textbooks as a thing to avoid! I can't risk another episode like five weeks ago, not with someone I love. Gods, Ginny, I could have killed you, or bitten you. You could have been dead, infected, or crippled and disfigured for life. I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you."

The need to see her face became too great and he gently pushed her hair back, heart clenching at the absolute lack of expression. "Ginny…"

Silently, she shifted out of his lap and sat in the grass a few feet away, her entire body trembling with the effort. She closed her eyes and leaned back against the slender, curving trunk of a willow.

"Ginny."

"I think you should go."

"I can't do that."

"You're desperate to do that," she corrected harshly, not opening her eyes. "Just go."

"And just how do you plan to get back?' he demanded, starting to get a little angry. He'd told her the truth; couldn't she see that?

"Hermione will come get me," she answered dismissively.

"And she'll know where you are how?"

"When she sees me not in the infirmary, she'll check her map." There was a short pause in which he tried to figure out what map she meant, and the young woman sighed. "She got sick of having to explain her reasons to Harry every time she asked to borrow the Marauder's Map, so she studied it and figured out how to make her own copy, with a couple of tweaks. She'll check that and come get me."

"The Marauder's Map doesn't cover the grounds."

"Hers does, now will you leave?"

Shaken, he nodded and walked slowly away.

Ginny waited until she could no longer sense his presence before she let the tears come in a hot flood.

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Hermione did indeed check her map. After being passed in the hall by a frantic Poppy Pomfrey, the young woman ducked into an empty classroom and pulled the precious map from its hidden place within her robes. She had kept it mostly the same, though she'd added a few modifications that made the map even better for her usual purposes. "I solemnly swear I am up to no good," she whispered, tapping it with her wand. It came to life, almost every dot and name clustered into the Great Hall for lunch.

Her gaze fell on the tiny drawing of a faery in the top right corner. "Find Ginny, please," she told it, and off it went, zooming through the depicted halls until it came to the very outer edge of the map, by the lake. "What is she doing down there?" Hermione muttered as the faery went back to its corner. She tapped Ginny's dot with her wand and a small picture hovered above the map. Ginny was crying.

On instinct, she looked to where she knew Remus' office to be, and sure enough, there was a small dot pacing restlessly back and forth across the small space. The tip of her wand hovered over the dot, and small letters floated into the air to spell out "Remus Lupin-upset". Two tiny modifications to an already incredible map, and she knew all she needed to know about the situation.

"Mischief managed." She wiped the map clean and tucked it back into its safe place, walking a little faster than was truly dignified until she got outside, where she broke into a full run. When she reached the small cluster of trees, Ginny's tears had stopped, though her face still showed the signs.

Wordlessly, Hermione sank down onto the grass next to her friend and pulled her into a gentle embrace.

Ginny clung to her fiercely, nails digging into her shoulder. "Why?" she whispered.

"I don't know."

They sat together in silence, both understanding perfectly what the other didn't say.

Finally, Hermione glanced at the other girl from the corner of her eye. "So what do you suppose happened to the one step forward?"

"It was followed by the two steps back," Ginny answered humorlessly. She fidgeted with the knot on one of her bandages, forcing herself not to scratch where the healing skin was itching.

"So what are you going to do?"

"I don't know," she sighed.

"Really?"

"I'm tired, Mione," she admitted, her voice barely audible. "I'm tired of fighting, tired of getting hurt…I'm tired of getting hurt. I'm tired…" She shook her head and left it unfinished, but Hermione knew her best friend far too well.

"Out with it, Gin," she ordered.

Ginny turned white under her freckles, and she stared through the thin screen of trailing vines into the lake. "I'm tired of Tom laughing at me," she breathed, closing her eyes against the pain.

"Oh, Ginny." Not knowing what to say, Hermione simply held her a little too tight.

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They watched the sunset through the leaves, until they started shivering despite Hermione's Warming Charm. The older girl pulled off her heavy robes and draped them around Ginny, ignoring the other girl's protests. "I'll have to levitate you," she informed her. "I'm not really strong enough to carry you all the way to your rooms."

Ginny nodded and they floated her just enough that Hermione could safely carry her. They took little known hallways and kept to the shadows, protecting them from the inquisitive eyes, and more importantly the gossiping tongues, of students until they reached Ginny's chambers. "Bedbug," she whispered, and the statue of the sphinx swung the door open for them.

Hermione settled Ginny into her bed, wondering belatedly why she didn't take her back to the infirmary, and tucked her in, making a quick check over her injuries to make sure none had torn. "Would you like something to eat?"

Shaking her head, Ginny sank back into her familiar bed, staring at the ceiling. "No thanks. I think I actually just want to be left alone, if you don't mind too much."

"Of course." Smiling, Hermione reached into a pocket and pulled out a Galleon, performing the Protean Charm on it. She set it on the pillow next to Ginny's hand. "If you need me, call me. Got that?"

"Got it," Ginny agreed with a weak smile.

"All right." Hermione twitched the blankets one last time and left the younger girl alone. She stopped briefly in the infirmary to tell Madam Pomfrey the whereabouts of her patient, imparting also the fact that she was resting, and then let her feet take her back to the dungeons. There was a Head of House meeting, so she knew Severus wouldn't be in the lab, but she went there anyway. She didn't pull out any ingredients, didn't pull out her notes, didn't even pull out a book, just sat there at the high counter with her chin in her hand, staring down at the black marble surface.

That was how Severus found her when he returned from hearing the new rules concerning Hogsmeade visits, her brown eyes lost in the distance. Tears trembled on her eyelashes, occasionally shivering down her face. He walked silently up behind her and laid his hands on her shoulders, but she didn't flinch. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"The stupid berk hurt Ginny again," she mumbled through her fingers. "I just don't understand why he keeps doing this."

"Perhaps he is simply trying to protect her," he said carefully, his thumbs rubbing gently at the tension in her back.

"From what?" she demanded. "From the wolf? Ginny knows the wolf as well as she knows Remus, she _is_ a wolf. I swear he doesn't remember anything about his friends becoming Animagi for him. Our forms _want_ to be used, they sing in our blood as surely as the werewolf cries in his. We simply retain our control more often. Whatever his fears, he has no right to keep hurting Ginny. He has no right to tell her he loves her when he has no intention of being with her." Her voice was starting to choke, the tears coming faster, and she shook with the effort of keeping it inside. She knew Severus hated weeping females; the girls in his House had long ago learned not to go to him weeping.

Strong arms wrapped around her, and she felt his breath warm against her ear. "Cry, Hermione," he whispered. "You need to."

"You don't like being around people who cry."

"I don't like being around people who cry for stupid reasons," he corrected. "You're crying for the pain of your best friend; that's not a stupid reason."

So wrapped in the comfort of a man she'd had a schoolgirl crush on since fourth year, Hermione cried for Ginny. Severus waited patiently through the storm, letting her cling to him and soak his black robes. When it had passed, he gravely produced a handkerchief and wiped the tears from her face, earning a watery chuckle from her. And he resolved to talk to Lupin. This had gone on long enough.

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When the sun set and Ginny still hadn't returned to the infirmary, Remus was very tempted to go back out to get her. He even went to so far as to grip the door of his office a few times, but each time, he saw her face telling him to go, and he let his hand drop. Finally, too frustrated and confused and angry to do anything else, Remus Lupin did something he very rarely did.

He drank.

Several years back, he had been given a bottle of very fine Firewhiskey by Tonks, nad not being a drinking man, he'd never opened it. He did so now, barely suppressing the urge to forgo the glass and drink straight from the bottle. The first glass burned all the way down, and the second glass screamed. The third, however, he barely felt, and after that, it might as well have been water for as much as he could taste it.

Severus stood in the doorway, slightly shocked, staring at the very drunk man clutching the three-quarters empty bottle of booze. He tried to think back, remember if he'd ever seen his colleague even slightly inebriated, but short of a single glass of spiked eggnog at an Order Christmas party, he couldn't identify a single occasion.

It took a while for the wolf senses to wade through the flood of alcohol in his system, but Remus finally recognized the fact that there was another person in the room. He blinked blearily at Severus, the form swimming in front of him. "Whozere?" he mumbled through his thick tongue.

"You disgust me," Severus snarled, his silky voice dangerously low. "Why that girl wants to waste her time with you, I'll never know."

"Get out."

"What you do to yourself, Lupin, is your own business, and I assure you, I couldn't give a damn, but you are hurting Miss Weasley, and you are hurting Hermione, and I will not allow you to do this any longer."

"Get out!" Remus bellowed, lurching to his feet. The bottle fell from his fingers and shattered against the floor, the smoking liquid seeping out. He stared at it mournfully, his anger forgotten. "Oh," he lamented. "It's all gone."

Furious beyond words, Severus grabbed the man's collar and slammed him into a wall, the pain cutting through some of the alcohol haze. "Grow up, Lupin," he hissed venomously. "Your selfishness is hurting people who haven't done anything worse than try to love you."

"Don't deserve it," the man slurred.

"No, you don't," the irate potions master agreed, and Remus blinked. "Who does? Everyone has skeletons in their closet, fleabag, but it is not up to us to condemn ourselves."

"Where's Severus?" the thoroughly sloshed man asked bemusedly. "You can't be Severus. You sound hopeful."

For answer, he slammed him back against the wall again, even harder. "Lupin, there is a wonderful, intelligent, beautiful girl sitting in my laboratory crying because you're hurting her best friend. She is one of the very few people I have ever met who can acknowledge the brand on my arm and still want to be around me. I have done nothing to deserve that trust, but there she is. Miss Weasley loves you enough to be willing to die to keep you from doing something that would destroy you. She didn't have to transform that night, she didn't have to nearly die to keep you from the remorse of having your students' blood on your hands."

"She was protecting the students."

"She was protecting you!" Severus roared. "I had never before pegged you for an idiot, Lupin, but I see I was wrong!"

"You're not Severus," he said again, still blinking stupidly. "You just said you were wrong."

Severus Snape was a very powerful wizard. Despite his disdain for 'foolish wand waving', he could perform nearly every curse, jinx, or hex he'd laid eyes on, and it was sorely tempting to use each and every one of them on the man before him. He was, however, also fairly fond of his job, and didn't think Albus would be very pleased if he lessened the school roster by one Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. So he did the next best thing: drawing his arm back, he slugged the man across the face.

He watched dispassionately as Remus slumped to the floor, then gingerly rubbed his knuckles. It had been awhile since he'd resorted to such means, but it certainly felt good. He just hoped the werewolf would remember it come the morning.

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Ginny whimpered in her sleep, turning over to try and escape the whispering laughter in her mind, the last remnants of a living nightmare that refused to die. _"You're weak,"_ it hissed at her. _"Why would he want to be around someone so weak?"_

She was shaking, her entire body trembling with the old fear, the old fury.

_"You couldn't even kill them properly," Tom's voice reminded her. "You cried over the roosters, you pathetic little girl!"_

Tears leaked out from under her closed eyes. She wanted to scream out at him, but her lips were sealed., teeth clenched firmly together. It didn't help her to know that she hadn't wanted to kill them, that crying over something as small as the murder of a rooster showed that she was a good person. But Tom wasn't interested in a good person, he was only interested in torment. His diary was gone, his future self thoroughly destroyed, but his voice and his words remained, and in her weakened state, she couldn't even bring herself out of sleep.

She was entirely prey to him, and the wolf part of her nature, the glorious missing piece she'd discovered in her sixth year, howled with rage at their helplessness.

_"You nearly killed the Mudbloods, Ginny," he whispered at her again. "You nearly killed your friends. Why would he want someone who tried to kill their friends? You even attacked a poor, defenseless cat."_

Pushing everything she had into a single, final effort, Ginny bit down as hard as she could on her lip, tasting the blood in her mouth as the nightmare released her, and she flew out of the bed to land hard on the unforgiving stone floor. She could feel herself bleeding, feel the blinding pain from her injuries. She knew she had done further damage in her thrashing and she knew she should call Hermione, get help.

She didn't reach for the coin.

For the first time in her life, Ginevra Weasley simply wanted to give up. It was sorely tempting to just remain on the floor, see if she could manage to bleed out before someone came to look for her in the morning. She heard Tom's voice every time she slept, heard him in the quiet moments when she was awake. She just couldn't get him out of her head.

It was that thought, though, that made her struggle through the pain, searching in the disarrayed bed sheets for the coin. Ginny was a fighter, as her Animagus showed, and she wasn't about to let Tom be right. Her hand was slippery with blood, but she finally managed a grasp on the coin, squeezing it tightly and praying that it would be enough activate it. Her wand was still in the infirmary, locked in Poppy's office so that she wouldn't try to perform magic before her body was healed.

Her body wasn't in the need of the most healing, though.

Her fireplace came roaring into life, and Hermione tumbled through, eyes wide with fear. "Ginny?"

"Here," she managed through her bleeding, swollen lip.

Hermione swiveled sharply and focused on Ginny, the color draining from her face. "Oh, God, Ginny, what happened?"

"Tom…"

Carefully picking her up, Hermione flew back towards the fireplace, kicking in the entire jar of Floo Powder because she didn't have a hand free. "Hospital wing," she cried, and stepped into the green flames. They emerged near Poppy's office, but without any patients in the infirmary, the mediwitch was in her rooms, sleeping the sleep of the just. "Poppy!" She yelled, setting Ginny down gently on a bed. "Poppy, it's Ginny!"

A moment later, the barely awake witch stumbled out of her room, tying an apron on over her dressing gown. "What is it, child? What's happened?"

"She had a really bad nightmare," Hermione explained, bringing the lights up in the room so they could all see. "I don't think she could wake herself up."

Ginny laid back and absorbed the sounds over her head. Her strength was fading, she couldn't really make them out into separate words, but she felt Madam Pomfrey's cool hands on her forehead and she relaxed, knowing she was safe. If nothing else, she would get a Dreamless Sleep Potion out of it, and Tom hadn't yet been able to defeat those.

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It was a very confused man that woke up to the glaringly bright morning sun on the floor of Remus' rooms. He couldn't remember how he'd gotten there, and the entire left side of his face was a throbbing mass of pain. It hurt to move, and his stomach protested with a wave of intense nausea when he attempted to get to his feet. Bit by bit, things were coming back to him through the blur. He winced as he remembered the things Severus had told him, though he still refused to acknowledge most of them as true, but try as he might, he just couldn't remember how he'd ended up on the floor, and couldn't think of why his face would be hurting.

A small sound of disbelief, as good as a shout in his pounding head, brought his attention to one of the inner doors. A very small figure was standing there, a haze of color against the grey stone, individual features absolutely lost to him at the moment. "Remus?" It whispered.

"Callum," he groaned. Not someone he wanted to see him like this.

"Were you drinking?"

"Yes," he answered honestly. He sat up and braced himself against the wave of dizziness, watching Callum gingerly approach.

"You don't smell too good," Callum told him from ten feet away.

"Thank you."

There was a loud knock on the door two feet to Remus' right and he groaned again, his head sinking down into his hands.

Callum opened it to see the Headmaster standing there, the twinkle gone from his blue eyes. "Headmaster," he greeted politely. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"Yes, Callum, I need to see Remus."

"He's indisposed at the moment, but I can tell-"

"No, Callum," Albus interrupted, but not unkindly. "I must speak with him now."

The boy looked thoughtfully at the Headmaster, and it brought the merry gleam back to the old man's eyes to see the clear affection the child had for Remus. He knew Remus must be tired; Hermione had very clearly said that Remus hadn't been there when Ginny had had her nightmare. Then the world, or at least that small space of it, came crashing down around the man's fond hopes. "He's drunk," Callum informed him bluntly.

"I am not drunk," Remus corrected weakly. Callum looked at him blankly and he shrugged. "I'm hungover."

"You, Remus?" Dumbledore asked in amazement, hand already reaching into his voluminous robes to produce a small vial of hangover potion he kept with him at all times. He handed it to the younger man, whose hands were shaking violently, and watched him down it, grimacing at the taste. "What on earth were you drinking about?"

"It's not important."

"How dare you!" Callum cried furiously, and both men turned to look at him, nonplussed. "How dare you say she's not important!"

"Ah," was all Dumbledore said, but Remus knew he understood everything.

"Callum, sometimes when someone says something's not important, they actually mean that they just don't want to talk about it right at that moment," Remus translated, but the mutinous expression remained on the boy's face. "Albus, why did you need to see me?" he asked, his head clearing almost instantly with the effects of the potion.

"Miss Weasley had a nightmare last night," he began. "I am given to understand that she has been having them for some time, due to her possession in her first year. I'm afraid I was so caught up in defeating the present Tom that I hadn't realized there were still lingering poisons from the past Tom. You are my Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, and I need your help to get rid of these nightmares. Miss Weasley has been suffering them long enough, and if ever she's in as weakened a state as she is now, she may cause serious harm to herself."

"What do you mean?" he demanded, the now familiar fear settling into a hard knot in his stomach.

"Miss Granger informed me that the girl couldn't wake herself up and thrashed about a great deal, causing extensive damage to her injuries. She finally woke up by biting nearly all the way through her lip."

Remus sighed, passing a hand through his mostly grey hair. "Albus, this may not be the best idea in the world," he replied. "Severus would actually be a much better choice."

"Nonetheless, it is you who will go." The Headmaster's voice was mild, but Remus knew it would be more productive to clean the Great Wall with a toothbrush than it would be to argue with that tone.

"Let me shower and change into some clean robes," he sighed again.

Albus smiled down at him and left, leaving the pair in a heavy silence.

"You were an idiot again, weren't you?" Callum surmised flatly.

"Callum!"

"Weren't you!" he yelled. "Why do you keep doing that! You're hurting pack!"

"You're only a wolf three days a month, Callum, you need to not think like that the rest of the time."

"You're wrong." He met his guardian's puzzled gaze calmly, but the wolf was rising closer to the surface in rage. "I have a wolf inside me every single day. I am a wolf and human in one body for every moment that I breathe. I can separate out the thoughts and impulses, the desires, the instincts, but I cannot separate the wolf from the human. They are forever intertwined, and I don't see why you haven't recognized that fact in the thirty-three years you've had the wolf inside you! But the wolf isn't the problem, Remus, the wolf isn't the one that keeps hurting Ginny. That's you. That is the part of you that is completely human."

"No, Callum, it's not."

"Yes, it is," he insisted. "You forget that I can sense the wolf, just like you can sense me. The wolf would never push away its mate. A mate is for life, to depend on for everything, to be there for. It's the human that hurts her and pushes her away. It's the human part of you that's being such an idiot, and you have no right to hurt her!" he yelled, hands curled into fists at his sides.

Remus stayed leaning against the wall, neatly stunned. He'd never seen Callum this worked up, even with the initial terror of nightmares and transformations, and part of his mind growled in approval. _Protecting pack_, the wolf whispered to him. _Good cub._

_Boy._

"Why are you hurting her?" Callum muttered, looking away.

"Because I'm not the right one for her," Remus answered quietly. "Better that she hurt a little now than spend the rest of her life hurting."

"And she doesn't get a say in this?"

"Callum, she's eighteen years old. She doesn't know what she wants yet."

"She wants to be a mediwitch and eventually step into Madam Pomfrey's position here at Hogwarts," he answered immediately. "She wants to have a small family, only one or two children, and she wants to always be best friends with Hermione. She wants to one day write down everything she and the others did while they were students here, once they can't get into trouble for it anymore. And she wants you. It sounds to me like she knows what she wants."

"Callum, you are nine years old-"

"Why do you keep bringing age into this?" Callum interrupted loudly. "You're thirty-nine; do you know what you want! When was the last time you made a decision about what you wanted, Remus? I may be only nine but I have eyes and ears. You always did what you were told to do, and when you were in school, you just went along with whatever your friends were doing. You say you love Ginny, but you don't seem to want her, even though I know you do."

Callum dropped down to one knee in front of his mentor, his surrogate father, and ducked his head to hide the flush of emotion on his face. "You keep telling me that the people who love us despite our lycanthropy are to be treasured and held most dear. You keep telling me that being bitten isn't the end of the world, or the end of my life. You keep telling me that we're not evil, that we're still good people, and good people are worthy of being loved. So have you been lying to me?"

"Callum, no!"

"Then why don't you believe it? Why have you been telling me things that you don't believe!"

Remus had no words. He stared at his charge, hazel eyes wide, and tried to find the words to say, but there were simply none to be had. There was no argument he could give, no truthful reply he could make. He hadn't wanted Callum to give up hope, but he himself had given it up so long ago that it hadn't occurred to him that he was being a hypocrite. He was the way he was; he just didn't want Callum to be alone.

For the first time in six months, he felt like a parent; he had been surpassed by his child. Callum understood things that he'd been groping for his entire life, had accepted things he'd been fighting tooth and nail since they'd come upon him. He felt swamped by the enormity of these realizations that Callum had shoved down his throat, and he knew, with a terrible and utter certainty, that they came too late.

"I can't fix this," he croaked, voice rasping.

"She loves you," Callum answered simply. "And you love her. Start from there."

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Hermione looked up purely out of habit when she heard the footsteps enter the infirmary, her mind already preparing to dismiss the new arrival and focus back on her injured friend. She did a double take and shot to her feet, visibly bristling. "Get out," she ordered.

"Hermione, Albus told me to come," Remus informed her, hands held out in front of him in a calming gesture.

"I don't care if the old coot told you to fly to Venus, get the hell out!" she snapped. "I'm not letting you hurt her anymore."

"I'm here to see if we can't find some way to end these nightmares."

"Hermione."

She glanced over her shoulder at Severus, who rose smoothly from his chair. "Please don't say what I think you're about to say," she pleaded.

"Albus wants this, and I think we all know that he's going to get his way eventually. Better to give in gracefully now so you can catch him unawares later," he told her, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Come. Poppy tells me she needs more Dreamless Sleep and Fever Reducer. We should get started on those."

Very reluctantly, Hermione allowed herself to be led away. She balked a moment at the door, but Severus gripped her hand and pulled her gently over the threshold into the hall. A small shiver ran down her spine when he didn't let go. They made the long walk down to the dungeons in silence, but rather than leading her into their laboratory, Severus led her into his living room and sat her down on the couch.

"Let it out," he told her simply.

She stared at him for a moment, then took a deep breath and started shrieking. He waited patiently through the tirade, rather impressed by her command of the more impolite range of language, as she called Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin nearly everything she could think of. When she started running out, he helpfully suggested several more, until she was laughing so hard she couldn't draw breath to yell. Pulling her into his arms, a gesture he was learning to be more and more comfortable with, he smiled into her hair. "Did it help?" he murmured.

"Yes, it did," she chuckled. "Funny how I never thought of doing that before."

"There are times when I firmly believe Albus to be absolutely off his rocker, but we both know that things generally work out in the end when he has his hands in it."

"Optimism? From you? I'm certainly glad I'm sitting down."

"Miss Granger…" he warned.

She smirked up at him, her eyebrows rising mockingly. "Funny how you only call me that when you're miffed," she noted.

He kissed her.

It was something he'd been thinking about doing for some time, but he hadn't been entirely sure if their flirting was substantial or something she did as habitually as she breathed, which it sometimes seemed to be with her and Miss Weasley. When she didn't pull out of his arms, he decided that it was time to let her know how she'd wormed her way into his black old heart. He half expected her to recoil and slap him, or at the very least freeze up, but she moved into him and deepened the kiss, welcoming him in. It was not a kiss of passion, or hunger, but one of sweetness and promise.

Lots of promise.

She gently pulled away and looked at him for a moment, her face soft, before she smirked, a mirror image of the one he usually wore. "Well, if that's the way you respond when you're miffed, I'll just have to irritate you more often."

"No, miffed is the kiss," he corrected gravely. "When I'm irritated, I scowl."

She laughed and laid her head on his shoulder. A fleeting thought streaked across her mind, the wish that Ginny could have everything work out so well.

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Remus stared at Hermione and Severus as they left, and it didn't escape his notice that the potions master took his apprentice's hand. He knew Hermione was fiercely protective of her friends, and indeed, he'd seen flashes of it once or twice before, but her fury had been completely unexpected. They were gone from sight, though, and he had to do what he'd come here to do.

Silent footsteps brought him closer to her bed, the same one she'd occupied for the past five weeks. She was still, sleeping or unconscious he couldn't be sure, her eyes closed and her sweat-streaked hair fanning about her on the pillow. He could see the thin scar on her lower lip from her healing, and the bandages were spotted with blood despite being fresh. He reached out a trembling finger and stroked her flushed cheek, feeling the heat that burned beneath the skin.

"Funny," she murmured. "I seem to remember Hermione telling you to get the hell out of here."

Neither sleeping nor unconscious, then.

He sank down into the chair Hermione had vacated, watching her face closely for any sign of reaction. "I have a healthy fear of Hermione, but not enough to make me cross Albus," he answered lightly.

"What are you doing here?"

"Two things, actually, one of which I'm sure you heard."

"Tom's as much memory as possession now. The dreams aren't going to go away," she stated dismissively.

"There was one night you didn't have them," he countered, thinking back to the wonderful warmth of her in his arms.

"Yes, well, I can't exactly count on that, now can I?"

"Ginny, please look at me."

Slowly, she opened amber brown eyes and turned her head to look at him, and he shrank back from the infinite pain and sorrow in those eyes. "What do you want, Remus?" she whispered.

"I want to say I'm sorry." He closed her mouth with two fingers gently against her lips. "Let me finish, please." Taking a deep breath, Remus looked her in the eyes, his voice soft. "I don't expect you to forgive me, because I know that's asking too much. I've hurt you too badly. I've been an idiot, and I've been selfish, and I know that now. My concerns were valid, but I forgot that it wasn't my place to decide what was best for you. I will never understand how I ever became worthy of your love, but if I still have it, it is a gift I will be thankful for each and every day. You've seen me at my absolute worst, and saved me from becoming even less. Being around you makes me happier than I can ever remember being, even more so than when I was at school with James and Sirius, because you complete me. When I'm with you, I can forget myself and just be, when I allow myself that luxury.

"I love you, and I want to be with you. I have demons, Ginny, but you've seen them. I can't promise that they'll get fixed, but I can promise to try. And I can't promise not to hurt you. All I can do is tell you that I love you more than I know what to do with. I can tell you that I will die before I knowingly or willingly cause you any pain. Is there any way I can have another chance?"

She stared at him, silent and still beneath his fingers, and he could almost see the wheels turning. "Bite me," she whispered finally.

He recoiled violently, almost tipping the chair over with the sudden movement. "What?" He gasped, his heart seizing.

"The next full moon, I want you to bite me," she told him gravely. "Because if the only way you'll allow me to be near your demons is to have them myself, I'll take them gladly. If that's what it'll take to let me be with you, then I will get down on my knees before you and bare my throat, and I will do it gladly."

"No, Ginny," he said firmly, squeezing her hand. "That's not what it'll take."

"Then what will it take, Remus?" she wanted to know. "Because I love you, but I'm tired of fighting a losing battle. Just tell me that I'm fighting for something worthwhile, and I'll fight till Fenrir heralds Ragnarok, but I have to know that it's worth the battle."

He didn't know what else to do, what else to say, so he kissed her, letting it say what his words couldn't. The kiss was gentle, the intensity with which he gripped her hand anything but, and the combination between the two sent her reeling. She smiled up into his eyes when he pulled slightly away. "So, yeah, the battle's worth it," she noted easily.

His entire face lit up and he kissed her hand fervently. "I promise I won't muck it up this time."

"Really?"

"Well, at least not for another few days," he amended.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." She arched an eyebrow at him. "You know," she commented casually. "If you wanted to bite me anyway, while you were human, that might not be entirely a bad thing."

Remus just laughed, his heart light, and squeezed her hand again.


	16. Chapter 16: Pack Song

**Disclaimer: I wish.**

_A/N: Okay, milk and cookies to BOTH of the people who reviewed before I posted this new one. The rest of you, shape up! Please. Unless something else bites me later, this will be the final chapter (dum dum duum…), and I certainly hope you enjoyed the ride. Please review, and for anyone reading this in time to come, please drop a line. Even though it's finished, I'll still be checking back on it, and I really do love to know what people think. Thank you guys for being so great, and special acknowledgements are at the bottom. And I'm sorry for it being so long since I last updated; things have been really rough on a personal level recently, and it took me some time to work through them enough to give this story the optimism it deserved._

Chapter Sixteen: Pack Song

Callum whined and scratched at his ear, trying to relieve the burning itch. Of all the dangerous things inhabiting the Forbidden Forest, fleas had to be the most irritating. They were so very ordinary, and yet you simply couldn't ignore them. He tensed and crouched low to the ground as he heard the barest of sounds sliding through the underbrush, his teeth bared in a silent snarl.

A beautiful white wolf, only discernible from the snow by her amber brown eyes, emerged into the clearing, shaking the moisture from her thick fur. She trotted over to him and nuzzled him in the side, an affection he returned. Together, they waited for third member of their pack, their alpha. Only a few heartbeats later, the large grey wolf left the shield of trees and joined them.

They were an odd assortment, had there been any there to see them. The two greys did not look like normal wolves; they were a little too elongated, their muzzles not quite the right shape, not all of their joints the same as their kindred's. Golden eyes gleamed under the full moon, and Remus prowled over to his mate to lightly nip at her white ears.

She made a low sound deep in her throat, and his tongue lolled out in a lupine chuckle. Throwing back his head, he howled into the darkness, and the hunt began. They took to their paws and raced through the trees, heedless of the twigs and branches reaching and clinging, their powerful bodies surging across the distance in graceful blurs. They had no prey this night, simply the joy of the hunt, and they reveled in it, the pack song singing in their blood and their brains.

Ginny barked a warning when the pre-dawn sky began to lighten, and all three wolves went flying back towards the castle, speeding against the rising sun. They found the small side door that had been left open for them and they snuck through the halls with practiced ease. No student should have been awake, and certainly not out of bed, but still…it never hurt to be careful.

Whining, Remus scratched at the wall beside his portrait and sank back on his haunches, waiting not so patiently. The sun was climbing higher, and it would only be a matter of minutes before it came over the horizon. He didn't particularly want to transform out in the hallway.

A sleepy Hermione answered the door and let them in, waving to them before trudging off towards the dungeons. She'd agreed to spend the full moon nights to be there for them in the morning, but there was a warm bed and a warmer body that she was looking forward to returning to.

Callum padded off to his room, stretching out languidly on the rug for those last few moments. Ginny and Remus watched him go, Remus nosing the door closed after him, and the pair headed into Remus' bedroom. Ginny slid easily into her human form, shedding the white fur of the wolf without a moment's difficulty, and poured out a measure of pain-relieving potion as Remus made the transformation back. The changes didn't hurt nearly as much as they always had, but his body still wasn't meant to change in quite that manner, and the potion helped. He drank it down and set the goblet on the nightstand, taking the young woman into his arms and holding her close.

"Good morning," he murmured in her ear, his breath tickling the sensitive flesh.

"Morning," she giggled, shrugging her shoulder to try and protect her senses.

He kissed her softly and she relaxed into him, shivering as his teeth nipped at her lower lip. Her nails dug into his arms as he deepened the kiss, gently pushing her back towards the bed. She tumbled into it gladly, pulling him down after her.

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Molly Weasley was beyond angry. It wasn't that she was a busybody, it was simply that it there was a single piece of information about any of her children, she wanted to be the first to know. All it had taken to send her screaming for the Floo powder had been a single comment overheard completely by chance, and she was on her way to Hogwarts without a second thought. She passed gaggles of students relaxing in the early May sun and didn't even stop to say hello to a slightly puzzled Albus Dumbledore, heading directly to the rooms of her youngest child and only girl.

"Ginevra Weasley, you open this door this instant!" she cried, glaring at the guardian sphinx. The sphinx simply stared back.

The door opened slowly, and a small head poked its way out, blue and grey eyes wide. "Mizzus Weasley?"

"Oh, hello, Callum, dear," she gushed, instantly sweetness and maternal warmth. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," he answered slowly, watching her thoughtfully. "Are you looking for Ginny?"

"Yes, dear, is she in?"

"No, ma'am, she's on duty in the infirmary. I'm just practicing on her piano. She's been teaching me to play," he added proudly.

"Thank you, Callum." The short, plump woman kissed the boy's cheek and left him standing in the open door, her mind set on one single thing: find Ginny and get answers.

The infirmary was, thankfully, empty of students when Molly stormed in, startling the pair of mediwitches standing near a desk. Ginny's brows contracted swiftly, staring at the irate woman. "Mum?" she asked in confusion.

"Don't you 'mum' me, Ginevra Weasley," she snapped, not even noticing as Poppy beat a swift, graceful retreat into her office. "What in the name of all that's magical is in your head!"

"Mum, what are you talking about?"

"I'M TALKING ABOUT REMUS LUPIN!" Molly screeched, and Ginny paled instantly, clutching the edge of her desk for support.

"Oh, good god," she gasped. "Mum-"

"My youngest child, my only baby girl, is in love, with a man more twice her age, who nearly KILLED her back at Halloween, who was her former PROFESSOR, and I have to find out by OVERHEARING BILL AND CHARLIE!" The woman's voice, which had started out more or less calmly, for Molly, rose steadily in both pitch and volume, until it was all Ginny could do to not cover her ears and wince. Well, she did wince.

"Mum, sit down," she said firmly, when her mother had to stop and take a breath. Surprised, Molly obeyed, and Ginny pulled her chair in front of the woman, holding her hands tightly. "Firstly, I'm not entirely sure how Bill and Charlie would have found out anything, but I'm not going to ask that at the moment. Secondly, yes, Mum, I am in love with Remus, and no, this is not some silly infatuation. I love him. He completes me, he is the only person I could imagine spending the rest of my life with, but it's been a rough road. He's never believed himself worthy of that kind of love, and it's been hard for him to accept mine and allow himself to feel his own regard for me. I think we both know that age has nothing to do with it. If we were muggles, with no reason to expect to live past eighty or so, then yes, twenty years would be a big deal. We're not muggles. Number three, Remus is not the one who nearly killed me; the werewolf is, the werewolf that was driven mad with pain due to a failed potion. That is something I absolutely forbid you to hold against Remus. Everything that happened that night was an unfortunate series of circumstances that joined together in the worst ways possible. Number four, you said it yourself: my **former** professor. As in, no longer my professor, as in, no longer taboo. As for the last bit…" she took a deep breath and looked her frantic mother straight in the eyes. "I didn't tell you because I wanted everything to be certain when I did. Remus was so terribly hot and cold for a while, and we all know how you're going to treat someone who hurts any of your children, and I didn't want that to happen to Remus." She smiled sadly. "He and Callum were going to come with me to the Burrow when school got out and we were going to tell you then."

"You were?"

Ginny nodded solemnly.

Molly's mind was whirling, but she was an intelligent woman, for all her frequent histrionics, and she could see the absolute truth and sincerity shining in her daughter's warm amber eyes. After a few moments of letting the wheels spin, she sighed and grabbed her daughter in a rib-crushing embrace. "You silly girl," she mumbled, eyes starting to tear up. "If you really do love him, then I couldn't be happier for you, I just wish you'd TOLD me!"

Laughing, Ginny hugged her mother back and scooted slightly away to recover her breath. "Look at it this way, Mum: I could have picked Draco. Ow!" She rubbed the side of her head with a injured pout, but Molly's smack had only been half-hearted and they both knew it.

"I think I may have scared poor Albus half to death," Molly noted ruefully.

"It's healthy for him. Keeps him on his toes."

Rising to her feet, Molly planted a kiss on the young woman's forehead. "I have to get back to the Burrow, now, dear, I don't want dinner to burn, but we'll see you, all of you, next week?"

"Absolutely, Mum."

Ginny bemusedly watched her mother walk out of the infirmary, her keen senses letting her know when the office door opened and Poppy's taffeta skirts bustled sedately out. "It's safe now, I promise," she called, and her mentor came to her side.

"What on earth was that about?" the old Hufflepuff wondered.

"Somehow she found out about me and Remus," Ginny answered calmly. "It's okay, though; the trick to dealing with my mother is not letting her get into full swing. Once she hits that peak, there's no going back, but distract her before she gets there and she turns into a purring kitten."

"So I'm not going to have to worry about reassembling our DADA professor?" Poppy asked with a small smile, and Ginny just grinned.

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"You know," Remus commented casually, as he watched Ginny tuck Callum into bed. "I haven't noticed you having any nightmares recently."

"They haven't been nightmares recently," she replied, smoothing the auburn curls that fell across the sleeping boy's face. "I still have the dreams, but…" she shrugged and led Remus out of the room, closing the door firmly behind them. "They're only dreams, now."

"Really?"

She sat down on the couch and stared down at her hands. They were still cold, always cold, but they didn't capture her attention quite as much as they used to, they no longer became her only focus when she was upset of distracted. "I still hear him," she elaborated quietly, sensing rather than seeing him sit next to her. "I can still hear Tom in my head, laughing at me, insulting me…but it doesn't frighten me like it used to. It's something that'll never go away, like Harry's scar, but it can't ever consume me again." She looked up at him finally and gave him a crooked smile. "Tom had so much power over me because he made me believe that he was the only one who cared about me. I know that's not so."

"Do you indeed?" he asked mischievously, trapping her hand between his to warm it.

"Not when you act like that," she retorted impishly, and he laughed. "Get this out of your system now, boyo, or be prepared to explain to my mother why you know my sleeping and dreaming habits."

That made his laughter die out mid-chuckle, and he stared at her with apprehension. "She's going to kill me when she finds out, isn't she?"

"She's not going to kill you, and she already knows."

"How does she know?"

"Apparently something Bill saw back in November gave him the idea that we loved each other, he mentioned it to Charlie, and Mum overheard."

"Huh." He stroked the inside of her wrist absently as he mulled over this new information. "I would've thought she'd make more of a scene than that."

"She did."

"Ah."

Staring down at her smooth skin, he failed to see the wicked gleam enter into her eyes. "It's my brothers you have to worry about, ever since Hermione showed them her cricket bat. They seem to think that it would be a wonderful thing to use on anyone who ever hurt their little sister, and they've all agreed to take turns so that everyone can have a share in the fun."

"You had so better be joking."

She merely smiled serenely.

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Callum walked downstairs with Remus and Ginny as he did every morning, but this was a special morning, because it was the last day the students would be there. They were going to go to the Burrow tonight and stay there for a week before returning to Hogwarts, and Ginny's brothers had promised to include him in the family Quidditch games. Lost in pleasant daydreams of flying again, he bumped hard into his guardian when the man stopped abruptly. "What's wrong?" he asked, rubbing his nose.

Remus didn't answer immediately, but when he did, Callum immediately took note of the protective concern underlying his voice. "I think you have visitors," he answered cryptically.

Callum peeked between the two bodies and froze.

In the entrance hall, between the end of the stairs and the large double doors, stood three people. A tall man, with mahogany hair and grey eyes, stern and unyielding; a slender woman with platinum blond hair and pale brown eyes, willowy and red-eyed; and a young woman with glacier blue eyes and her mother's hair, biting her lower lip in an unaccustomed show of anxiousness. Callum knew that if she'd been sitting, she would have been crossing and re-crossing her ankles, something he'd teased her for at family dinners. Cautiously, his nostrils flaring as he took in the once-familiar scents that he'd never paid so much attention to before, he came out from behind Remus and Ginny and slowly descended the rest of the stairs.

"Mother," he acknowledged dispassionately. "Father."

"Callum!" His mother flew forward and threw her arms around him, holding him close. He was more than a little startled; this was not something he'd ever come to expect from the woman who'd given him birth. They'd exchanged many letters since his birthday, each one promising that she was working on his father and would try to see him soon, but the next would give the same oath, and he'd stopped putting hope in it. He hugged her back tentatively and felt her relax into the embrace, and as soon as she let go, he found himself in the much more natural hold of Heidi.

As if on cue, the two women backed away, and he was left standing and staring at the patriarch of their family, the head of their line.

Tyr Sleipak was no stranger to intimidation, and he regarded his only son with a scowl. He felt a small rush of pride when the boy simply looked back at him, not scared in the least. Grey and blue odd eyes held much more wisdom than they should at that age, but the child had always been bright. The silence stretched out between them, until, to his distinct surprise, Tyr found himself becoming uncomfortable.

Callum had learned the art of the hunt in the five months following Ginny's recovery, and in so doing, had learned patience. They were on his territory, surrounded by his pack; his father would be the one to cave in. In this case, the nine year old boy was clearly the alpha.

Remus resisted the urge to snort into his hands, barely, and Ginny hid a small smile. Their cub was growing up.

Finally, Tyr lost, and he looked down at the polished marble of the hall. "I'm sorry, son," he said quietly. "If you'd like to come home, you'd be welcome." He looked back into his son's eyes. "You've been missed."

Callum felt an unexpected pang in his heart. Truth be told, he hadn't really thought all that much of home recently. Home was with pack, with Remus and Ginny. But he could also tell, with all the instincts of his pureblood lineage, how much it had cost his father to say that, and he therefore gave himself plenty of time to think before replying.

"You've been missed as well," he answered softly. "But I think it best if I stay here, with Professor Lupin and Professor Snape. It's simply a safer, and easier arrangement. But," he continued, hearing his mother's breath hitch. "I would like to be able to visit. I still want to come home," he finished, forgiving himself the small lie. Heidi smirked at him; she had seen the truth in her visits with him, but she was as protective of their family as he was of his pack, and she understood.

Tyr nodded thoughtfully and closed the distance between himself and his former heir. He didn't hug him, that would have been both completely foreign and far beneath his dignity, but he stretched out a hand and tightly squeezed the boy's shoulder, letting that say what he never could. Callum smiled up at him and nodded.

Remus and Ginny left him there in the entrance hall with his family by blood, continuing on into the Great Hall and taking their customary seats at the High Table. When Callum joined them several minutes later, he was alone, but content.

"You're sure?" was all Remus asked.

"I'm sure," Callum answered, taking a large bite of crispy bacon. "They would try, a little, but they wouldn't understand. And I am home.

"I'm with pack."

Big thank yous to:

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Thank you for your reviews!


	17. Chapter 17: Where We Belong

**Disclaimer: Yeh, still not mine. sigh**

_A/N: Okay, so the muse chomped down pretty hard and gave me another nudge. This is to the kids at Avistrum, to Cliona, to Carriegan, to Aurelia, et all, and here's hoping the tolerance really can be there once more. Love, Kushiel de Navarre_

_P.S.- Please review!_

**Chapter Seventeen: Where We Belong**

Albus stood in the doorway of the suite and watched the man and woman pack the last of their belongings with graceful sweeps of their wands. He was truly sorry to see them go, but he knew that as soon as their children came home from visiting the grandparents, cousins, aunts, and uncles one last time, they would be leaving. True, communication was not going to be impossible, but it was never the same. Sighing, the old man shook his head, running his slender fingers through his long, wispy beard. Of course it was never the same; after over a century and a half of life, hadn't he learned that by now?

The younger man sealed the last box and shrank it into his valise, turning to face the Headmaster. "It's just America, Albus," Remus laughed, running a hand through his hair. Now entirely grey but for two streaks of light brown at the temples, his wife had been itching to cut it, but he continued to leave it just long enough to drive her crazy. "It's not the end of the world."

"I know that, my boy," Albus chuckled, his piercing blue eyes misty. "But I shall miss you all the same."

"Albus, I would appreciate it if you weren't sniffling when the children get back; their hero worship would be shot for sure."

Drawing himself up with great dignity, Albus stared down his long nose as Ginny Lupin, who remained spectacularly unimpressed. Giving up, he passed a hand over her flaming hair. "And you remain our rock of good sense, as always, my dear."

"Yes, one of the many ways in which I take after my mother," she replied dryly.

A whoosh in the fireplace drew their attention to the flames burning green, and three children came tumbling out, laughing madly, followed by a young man with a wry grin on his face. Straightening, he brushed the soot off of his clothing, one blue eye and one grey eye twinkling with amusement.

"Oh, dear," Ginny said without thinking.

The young man laughed and helped the lone daughter gain her feet. "No fear, Ginny, it's nothing quite that bad." Brushing an auburn curl off his forehead, he gnawed a hangnail and reconsidered. "Then again, perhaps it is."

"Callum," she warned, and he laughed, holding his hands up reassuringly.

"Your brothers gave them a few things to, ah…'open up the market to the Yanks', was I believe their words."

Ginny planted her hands on her hips, staring down her three children. "What did they give you?"

Morrigan smiled sweetly at her mother and handed her the treat bag her twin uncles had given her. "Just some candies, Mum."

Taking the bag, the woman sifted through it, matching the wrappers against her memory. She sighed and slid the bag into the pocket of her muggle jeans. "There are some new ones there I'll have to figure out."

"Children, say goodbye to the Headmaster," Remus instructed fondly.

Callum helped the two boys up, who were more or less content to stay on the bare floor. At seventeen, he had grown taller even than Remus, but had yet to fill out across the shoulders. He had graduated only two months before from Hogwarts, and was looking forward to an apprenticeship at their location.

Tom, the youngest child, threw his arms around the ancient wizard's thigh, the tallest part he could reach. At six, he still had the habit of sucking on his thumb, despite all of his mothers attempts to convince him otherwise. "Goin' visit?"

"Yes, Tom, we'll be able to visit," Albus assured him gently. He slid his arms about the child's shoulders and held him close. Most people hadn't understood the significance of Ginny naming her youngest child as she had, but Albus did; it was something he often wished he could do, replacing the memories associated with a specific name. Tom, or Tommo, as he was often called, was everything that his namesake had not been, and with his birth, Ginny's nightmares had finally ceased entirely.

Morrigan embraced the ancient Headmaster next, her flaming red hair in two long braids down her back. She was her mother in miniature, right down to the amber eyes and dusting of freckles across her adorable nose. Of the three children, Albus had long considered her the most dangerous, for all that she was only eight. She charmed the pants off of everyone she met, but he saw her mother's steel in her, and more importantly, her mischief. Part of him was secretly, regretfully, glad that she wouldn't be attending Hogwarts; he wasn't as young as he used to be.

After Morri kissed the wrinkled cheek and backed away, her twin brother stepped up and paused, clearly torn on whether to offer a handshake or an embrace. Lorcan was a great deal like his father, older than his years, and quiet enough that others often underestimated him. After a moment, Albus smiled and rescued him from trying to be older than his years.

"Please forgive an old man's sentimentality, Lorcan, but I cannot let you escape my sights without a hug, however young it may seem."

Fighting back a relieved sigh, Lorcan slid his arms around Albus' waist and hugged him tightly, his hazel eyes closed as he inhaled the scent of the overly-decorated robes. Stepping away, he reached back and took his twin's hand, and she squeezed it silently.

Still smiling wryly, Callum extended a hand to the Headmaster. "Finally rid of me, sir."

"For which I'm sure certain professors are eternally thankful," he chuckled. "Ah, my boy, I shall miss you very much indeed."

"I'm sure I'll be busy with my internship, but I do know how to write, sir. Communication isn't a totally alien concept."

Ginny checked her watch and frowned. "The portkey will be activating in about three minutes; we'd better head out to the field."

Scooping the last of their shrunken belongings into his battered old briefcase, Remus ushered out Callum and the children, leaving his wife to walk arm in arm with the old man. Their pace was brisk, but somehow unhurried, Ginny's eyes traveling over her home for the last time. Just outside of Hogsmeade, right at the edge of the trees in the back, and with a wide yard to the front and sides, this house had truly been home since she had married Remus. Having their own children had never made Callum less welcome, and the house had been filled with the tears and laughter and lectures and dreams of children. Smiling fondly, she turned her eyes away, towards the trees that had embraced her family with each full moon, for all three of their children had inherited their father's lycanthropy. Severus and Hermione were still working on a cure, but their advancements had made the three days rather enjoyable, in a sense.

"You are absolutely sure you have to go?" He asked, his voice startling her out of her memories.

"It seems for the best," she answered firmly, but gently. "We love it here, Albus, and we are loved here, but we're not truly needed, especially now that Callum is done with Hogwarts. Tom is gone, his curse on the DADA position gone, so you have no problem filling the seat, and Remus and I both agreed that this would be good for everyone."

"Yes, I understand, my dear. The fact remains, however, that I shall miss you greatly."

"As I shall miss you," she replied, smiling. "But this will be a good change; I can feel it in my bones."

Stopping her a few feet away from her family, he softly kissed her forehead. "You have come through a great deal to get to where you are now, Ginevra Molly Lupin," he told her solemnly. "And if I have not said it before, I am very proud to know you."

"Albus, please don't make me cry in front of my children, I'll never live it down."

Chuckling, he embraced her swiftly and handed her off into Remus' arms. "Safe journey," he called, just as the familiar tug began behind their navels. A moment later, an empty space was all that remained of the Lupin family in Scotland.

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They landed in an undignified tangle of limbs and bodies, a heap quickly sorted out with the ease of long practice. Standing up and dusting themselves off, they took the opportunity to look around them. The courtyard was dominated by a large fountain of grey stonework, two witches and two wizards standing above it with wands crossed in unity. Beneath them, water spouted out from four figures. Tom walked slowly around the fountain, identifying the beasts it contained.

"A dragon, a phoenix, a sphinx…look, Da, a wolf! Sweet!"

A cluster of girls seated around the edge of the fountain watched the small boy and laughed, not unkindly. "Those are our House mascots," one of them told him.

Ginny brushed her hair out of her eyes and smiled. This place felt like home. In some ways, it had an atmosphere very similar to Hogwarts, though nowhere near as ancient, and yet that freshness was exciting, almost intoxicating. It was a softer beauty than the rugged Scottish highlands, a younger one. Her attention was caught by a motorcycle growling up the path into the courtyard, squealing to a halt with a skate and a cascade of gravel. A young man , probably no older than his early thirties, stepped off, removing a black cowboy hat and beating at the dirt clinging to his black leather duster. An Eye of Horus blazed around his right eye, and the girls at the fountain all greeted him cheerfully.

"Welcome back, Headmaster! What news this time?"

"Any new souvenirs for the office, sir?"

"Any injuries for Nurse Kayenta to scold you for hiding?"

Smiling, the man shook his head and sat down amidst them on the edge of the fountain. "The news will have to wait until a little later, I'm afraid, but we were successful, I do have a new souvenir, and how can I expect to hide anything from Nurse Kayenta if you lot know about it?"

A blonde girl with huge blue eyes glanced down the path. "Where are the others, Headmaster? Are they alright?"

"Yes, Aurelia, they're fine," he assured her quickly. "I just came back ahead of them because I'm supposed to be meeting our new Defense Against Dark Magic Professor."

"What?" One of them exclaimed, her hair flashing from a silky black to a shocking purple. "What happened to you!"

Remus smiled and settled his arm around Ginny's shoulders, watching the scene play out before them. His wife rolled her eyes. Men. They were all so juvenile.

"Nothing's happened to me, Carriegan, it's simply getting very difficult to be in charge of the Dark Hunters AND be Headmaster of the school AND teach Defense. In picking one to turn over to someone else, which would you rather I choose?"

A curly haired redhead glanced over to the newcomers, her green eyes speculative, but she said nothing, merely smirking and turning back to the Headmaster. "Well, I know there would be a lot of out of date posters hanging in childrens' bedrooms if you gave up the first," she replied.

Aurelia grinned brightly. "When there's something strange," she sang loudly, "in your neighborhood, who you gonna call?"

"Dark hunters!" The other three cried in unison, before all of them started laughing.

The man shook his head ruefully. "I'm not entirely certain I appreciate being compared to the Ghostbusters; Lady Viola Fey and Estel Leeds might have something to say if I did. But seriously, girls, have you by any chance seen the new professor?" This time, he caught the movement of the redhead's eye, and regarded her sternly. "What is it, Kushiel?"

Snickering, the girl gestured over to the Lupins. "You mean those people you almost ran over on your bike, sir?"

He had the good grace to flush, rising quickly to his feet and walking over. Extending his hand, he found it taken in a firm grasp. "Welcome to Avistrum, Professor Lupin."

"Headmaster Dowling, I presume?" he asked quietly, his innate shyness taking over.

"Clark Dowling, yes. How was your trip?"

"It was just a portkey," Tommo whispered loudly to his siblings. "Why is it a big deal?"

Laughing, Clark knelt down in front of the boy, late afternoon sun gleaming off his somewhat battered armor. "Well, Avistrum can be a bit hard to find sometimes, and I was worried that you may have gotten lost."

"Mum didn't let Da make the portkey, so no worries there," Morri quipped, and the gaggle of girls started snickering even more.

"I sense a future Colubrae in that one," Carriegan murmured.

"Hey! Enigmuses can have sarcasm, too, you know," answered the only girl whose name they hadn't heard.

"Enigmuses?" Kushiel echoed, one eyebrow quirking up bemusedly.

"Well, it's better than Enigmusans."

"I'm rather partial to Enigmites, to be honest."

"Kush!"

"Girls."

They fell silent at the soft warning from the Headmaster, but Ginny could still see the mischief dancing in their eyes. Her gaze fell upon each girl in turn, and she smiled to see the last one sniffing the air absently. It wasn't until the wind came at her face that she caught a familiar scent. A werewolf! She looked sharply at Remus, and could tell that he also had smelled the telltale marker.

"Headmaster, what-"

"Please, call me Clark," the younger man interrupted, his eyes following their gaze. "Cli, if you will?"

The girl stood up and approached them, a smile tugging at her lips. Her nostrils flared as her instinct catalogues the vast array of new scents availing themselves of her. "My name is Cliona, of Clan McCullough," she said simply.

"Clan McCullough," Remus repeated thoughtfully. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"Probably because they're the largest true werewolf pack extant," Ginny prodded, letting her extra senses review the girl. Although not lycanthropic like the rest of her family, she spent more than enough time in the body of the white wolf to have that set of instincts instantly available. "You grew up surrounded by werewolves, didn't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," she answered politely, her brown eyes bright.

"Cliona is not our only lycan here at Avistrum," Clark explained. "Miss Rochon is one as well, and fairly recently bitten. Cliona grew up in a pack, knowing the rules and expectations, but Miss Rochon is new to all this and could use some guidance. And Headmaster Dumbledore tells me he couldn't ask for a better Defense professor. Perhaps I could show you to your quarters, and we could discuss this more?"

"Of course. Children." Nodding to the students, Remus ushered his children before him, with Ginny's help, and followed the Headmaster into the school proper. Callum remained outside. Finding himself the close scrutiny of four strange girls was rather unnerving.

"Are you the apprentice Nurse Kayenta was talking about?" Carriegan asked finally. "Poor Elena was all in a tizzy because she thought she was being replaced."

Callum shook his head, auburn curls falling into his eyes. "I was told in the letter that she was training someone else, but that there would be sufficient work for both of us, and that she would tolerate no rivalry in her infirmary."

The girls laughed, but they didn't giggle, which he found eminently reassuring. "That sounds like Nurse Kayenta," Cliona agreed ruefully. Her senses flared as Callum came to sit with them. "You're a lycan, too!" She exclaimed.

Bemusedly, he nodded. "I was bitten nine years ago," he explained. "Remus and Ginny took me in, though it was technically just Remus at that point. It was hard, at first, but they really helped me accept it and get through it."

"I've heard that being bitten can be very difficult," Cli mentioned, leaning forward with interest. "I was born pack, so it's always been a part of my nature."

"It can be, yes. Usually is, for those that are bitten. Are there really two of you here?"

"Seven, now, if you count you guys," Aurelia amended, absenty twirling a lock of blonde hair around her fingers."

"Avistrum's a little laid back," Carriegan explained, shrugging elegantly. "We tend to be more accepting of certain things than a lot of others. Besides, there were two of you at Hogwarts, weren't there, with you and the professor?"

"Yes, but I didn't think it was quite that common."

"So what's your name?" Kush asked quickly, shooting Carriegan a look before she could comment.

"Callum Sleipak," he introduced, mentally smacking himself for not having the presence of mind to do that earlier. "I just graduated from Hogwarts"

"Ooh, what house?" The blonde one chirped.

"Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw's not bad," Carriegan conceded, her hair smoothing back to a deep, glossy brown. "I'm Carriegan Ellette Chantrea."

"Do you really go by all three names?" he asked wryly, and she flushed slightly.

Smirking, the redhead extended her hand, which he both shook and grazed with a kiss, causing her to laugh. "Kushiel de Navarre."

"De Navarre?" he echoed. "Why does that seem familiar?"

"If you were in Ravenclaw, you were probably around my twin sister, Rhonwyn O'Grady. She probably mentions me and Mum from time to time."

"Aurelia Hepurn," the blonde introduced, waving cheerily.

"You already heard my name," the final girl twitted him.

Callum smiled and nodded. "Yes Cliona McCullough of Clan McCullough, I did indeed."

"So, welcome to Avistrum."

_A/N: So, check out the sequel, Packsong, wherein we learn all about the Avistrum Academy of Sorcery (yay, Avistrum, which, disclaimer, I do not own), and about how our favorite friends get along there._


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